Triforce of the Gods
by Frances
Summary: What is this disease threatening Hyrule, possessing the minds of whoever it infects? Can Link and his Sheikah guides find the answers they need before it's too late? And will the royal family help or hinder their efforts? LinkOC, not a MarySue.
1. The Prophecy

**A/N:** As of January 26, 2009, I have done a major overhaul of chapters 1 - 8! The basic plot has not changed, but nearly every conversation between Link and Zanna has been reworked or completely rewritten, and the scene with Fanadi has changed drastically. I feel like Link and Zanna have a lot more chemistry now, and the story as a whole moves more smoothly (I did a LOT of editing.) So, if you have already read and like the story, I would recommend skimming through the chapters and checking out the new Link / Zanna conversations, as well as the Fanadi scene in Chapter 4. Hope you like it!

**Triforce of the Gods**

**Chapter One: The Prophecy**

Far in Northern Hyrule, on the brinks of Peak Province and nestled secretly amongst the snowy mountaintops, there was a village. Though small and humble, it housed the last of a mighty tribe of warriors, whose influence had once been felt in the farthest regions of the country. The tribe had all but died out, and those that remained were held together only by empty traditions and a refusal to abandon their way of life. They were known as the Sheikah... the Shadow Folk.

In this sleepy villa lived a passionate, angry young woman. Her heart bled for her forgotten people, and for the corruption and injustice of Hyrule– for the senseless misery the Goddesses had set upon the land. She mourned mortal vulnerability and the fruitlessness of Hylian toil.

The woman's name was Zanna, and she dared to hate the Goddesses. She had spent her life studying the lore of her tribe harder than any other pupil, scouring it in hopes of finding something that contradicted her suspicion that the Goddesses were cruel and sadistic. Instead, she discovered only that evil had invaded the land of Hyrule hundreds of times since its creation. In every incident, the Goddesses intervened with a hero. But the evil always rose again. Why? The question haunted her, blanketing even her happiest moments with doubt. Finally, Zanna's research led her to conclude that the great Triforce which was created by the Goddesses at the dawn of Time had spawned not only legendary strength and virtue... but legendary _evil_ as well.

The Goddesses were not all-loving, or all-wise. It struck a note that resonated in the lowest chamber of Zanna's soul, rattling her very core. She couldn't understand why the Goddesses would create the earth and then use their power to torment its defenseless inhabitants– endlessly flinging their world back and forth between turmoil and fleeting peace. Zanna's eyes were sharp– all around her she recognized injustices desperately in need of righting. But she was cursed by Heaven: a mediocre sorceress in a forgotten tribe that no one desired, with a body barely strong enough to survive her frigid mountain homeland, let alone lead an army. She had no means to change the world. The Goddesses had shown her a need for action, then condemned Zanna to a life of uselessness. And for that, she loathed them with all of her bitter, broken heart.

But the atrocity had only begun to unfold.

While dreaming in her small, stone house one night, Zanna received a prophecy. She saw Hyrule field. A thick, black shadow began sweeping across it like water soaking into fabric– racing over the fertile ground. All things it touched began to swim and detach, blood spilling from the mountains like rivers as ancient trees crumpled to black husks. She saw people becoming sickly and growing mad. They wandered the streets like beggars as their skin rotted on their flesh, yellow eyes rolling. Zanna was struck by the magnitude of their pain– a physical pain that was aching hot, and an emotional pain so blinding that it made them clamber over one another in desperate terror. Their minds seemed to swim with fever; they frantically clawed at their hair and faces as they cried out for help. No one answered.

Hyrule was dying.

Then, suddenly, light erupted from a mountaintop far in the distance. Zanna's heart leapt with hope, and she shot toward the peak with an unearthly speed. Her spirit roared across the jagged cliffs until– halting in surprise– she reached the top. At once, her insides twisted and she gave a furious, inhuman cry.

"Why have you abandoned us?" she screamed at the floating white orbs, her body clenching against the scathing winds.

The three divine lights brightened softly, sending out a wave of warmth.

"Forgotten child," they whispered, the words caressing her. "Beloved seer, restore balance to our land."

"You gave me nothing," Zanna cried softly, dropping to her knees. "I have nothing to give these people."

"Restore peace," they replied faintly as they began to ascend through the dark fog. "Restore balance."

Zanna reached after them, but they ignored her silent plea. "Don't leave me," she wept. "Don't leave me with nothing!" The orbs continued to disappear, and Zanna lurched against the void with self-righteous fury. "Don't leave me as I am! If I am to fix this land, then give me a way to do so!" she demanded.

Silence reigned as the Goddesses disappeared. Zanna awoke, screaming and tangled on her floor as she tore at her bed sheets.

**oXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo**

"Morning, Zanna," Zanna's younger sister, Helyn, acknowledged before Zanna was even in the kitchen.

Zanna came up behind her, ruffling Helyn's curly red hair almost absent-mindedly. "Morning," she responded.

"I was just getting breakfast ready," Helyn said lightly as her hands guided her slowly around the room. Wide and unseeing, her pale blue eyes were fixed permanently into space. Helyn had been born blind, and not even the village's wisest healer had been able to do anything about it. Making breakfast was Helyn's small contribution to the family and a way for her to establish some semblance of independence. It was not a challenging task, seeing as how there were only three of them: Zanna, Helyn, and their grandmother Cedra. Zanna and Helyn's parents had perished long ago, when Zanna was seven and Helyn was too young to speak. The couple had disappeared on a supply trip and the exact circumstances of their deaths were unknown, even to Cedra. Zanna was certain, however, that their wagon was raided on the way back from Kakariko.

She knew it because Zanna was the most gifted empath the village had witnessed in decades. All Sheikah sorceresses-in-training were required to practice the art of sensing other people's emotions, but Zanna had taken it to another level entirely. She could sense trouble in a village miles away, just by picking up feelings of terror or anger. Sometimes she could influence people's emotions with her own, making them feel content or ill at ease. In extreme cases Zanna could even feel the physical pain of others, although she tried vigorously to contain that aspect of her abilities. The night Zanna's parents did not return on schedule, Zanna complained of a sharp pain in her shoulder, an ache in her head, and then– as the red sun sank behind the horizon– her lower-left abdomen began to bleed profusely. Cedra barely saved her from bleeding to death, but in the morning there was no scar to be seen. Zanna's clothing was caked with blood from an injury that had not existed.

The village elders generally agreed that it was dark witchcraft, but Zanna knew the truth. Her mother had been shot in the shoulder and tumbled out of the wagon, and her father had been run through. Bandits, most likely.

It was the first of many offenses the Goddesses would commit against Zanna.

"What's the matter– are the eggs undercooked?"

Zanna suddenly realized that while she'd been staring into space, her sister had put breakfast on the table. "Oh... No, they look great. Sorry." To avoid further questioning, she immediately dug in and occupied herself with the food.

"You had another nightmare last night," Helyn observed. Zanna looked warily up at her from across the simple wooden table. There was a vase of dried flowers in the center. Helyn always collected flowers, although though she couldn't see them. She liked the smell, she said.

"Yeah... I guess I did. Why?" Zanna replied cautiously. She didn't want to snap at her sister, but the topic of her dreams was usually off-limits.

"I heard you screaming."

"Yeah, well. It was a nightmare, after all. It wouldn't be a nightmare if it wasn't worth screaming about," Zanna muttered. She ignored her sister's expression of unabashed pity. Just looking at it made Zanna feel embarrassed, and sad. Somehow Helyn– blind as a bat and six years younger– had become wiser and more mature than Zanna. When it had happened, it was impossible to say.

"Grandmother said she wanted to see you when you're done," Helyn said brightly, as if she had just remembered. "She's in the herb garden, waiting for you."

"Thanks, Hel," Zanna said, jumping at the chance to escape further dialogue. She grabbed her furry coat from the wall and immediately headed out the back door.

**oXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo**

In the garden, Cedra was stooped over the frozen ground as she hummed an old folksong. It was almost time for the ground to thaw, at which point Cedra's hearty, resilient herbs would come back in full force. She was preparing the way by singing to the garden-- "nourishing it with love," as she called it.

Seeing her there made Zanna smile. "Morning, Grandma," she said, kneeling beside the old woman.

"Good morning, Little Dragon," Cedra chuckled as she used Zanna's pet name. "I was just expecting you." She slowly brushed the snow off of her gnarled white hands and studied her granddaughter critically. "I see you're not covering your head."

It was true, Zanna was bare. The large purple tattoo of the Sheikah symbol was plainly visible over her right eye, and her thick raven hair billowed in the wind like long, dancing shadows. She sighed heavily. "Please, Grandma. You know I hate covering it. It's ridiculous anyway; we never have visitors. No one's going to see me."

"We do not cover our heads because of visitors," Cedra said sharply. "We cover our heads because concealing our identities is the way of our ancestors."

Zanna made a sound of defeated distaste, then raised her hood and fastened the strip of fabric that covered everything from the nose down. She tucked her hair away in frustration. "There. Are you happy?"

"Such a beautiful girl," Cedra smiled, patting Zanna's cheek affectionately. "Such lovely dark eyes. Just like your mother."

It agitated Zanna to hear of her mother– she bristled and shifted her weight impatiently. "Is there something you wanted, Grandmother?"

Cedra sighed. "Yes, there was a reason I had Helyn send you out. Your dreams have been troubled lately."

"Why is everyone so interested in my sleeping habits this morning?"

"I have felt the disturbances as well. I believe a great change is approaching, Little Dragon."

Zanna softened a little. "What do you mean?"

"I received this letter several days ago," Cedra said heavily, removing a red envelope from her large coat sleeve. Though it was opened, it was obvious who the letter was from.

"Grandmother, that's the royal seal!" Zanna gasped, eagerly taking the letter. She ran her fingers gingerly over the wax crest before removing the parchment within. There was no doubt about it– it was a royal message.

"I could not believe it myself," Cedra said. "I still have not told anyone else in the village; I don't want them to be disappointed."

Zanna scanned the letter hastily, reading important bits out loud. "'And in light of certain events I will not discuss at this time, I feel guided by the Goddesses to send a representative to your village at once in hopes of securing your cooperation.' Grandma! A royal messenger– here? It says to expect him on the seventeenth– that's today! And it's signed by the Princess herself!"

"Not so loud, Zanna," Cedra scolded softly. "No one knows. I still fear it will turn out to be a hoax, or that the diplomat will not survive the treacherous highways."

Zanna sat back on her heels, biting her lip as she reread the letter. "I don't believe it," she said as she shook her head. "Do you really think–" she laughed joyfully, eyes widening. "Grandmother, do you really think the royal family could be reenlisting us?"

"I don't know," Cedra said, taking the envelope and stuffing it away again. "But I wanted you to be aware. If a messenger makes it to our village, I didn't want you to be surprised. My spirit guide tells me that this letter has much to do with you."

"Me?" Zanna echoed. "Your guide really said the letter had to do with me?"

Cedra's eyes narrowed slightly, and she seemed to draw herself up. "Well, he did not say that exactly. But I have a strong intuition. Nevertheless," she changed the subject quickly, "you have a lesson with Shasheh. You're late already. Go on!"

Zanna rolled her eyes. "Grams, I can't just forget the letter and go to work as usual! I won't be able to focus!"

Cedra would have none of it. "Don't make excuses. Nothing can distract a sorceress from her work. Get going– and don't come back without a jug of milk from Nykko!"

**oXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo**

"Direct hit!" Shasheh cheered, picking up the battered metal target that Zanna had just nailed with a spell. "Yikes, Zanna," she laughed, holding it so the hole was clearly visible. "I didn't mean for you to blast it to smithereens."

"Sorry," Zanna grinned sheepishly. "I'm a little high strung today."

"I can tell," Shasheh said as she reset the target. "How's Helyn these days?"

"Oh, same as ever. She's been knitting scarves, actually. She's getting really good." A gold-colored concussion spell shot out of Zanna's hand again, and the target went flying.

"Perfect shot," Shasheh whistled, catching it on the way back down. "Very impressive accuracy, but if you're not going to focus on toning it down a notch then this exercise is pointless," the middle-aged woman chastised lightly.

Zanna sighed, wincing as she wearily rubbed the back of her casting hand.

"You okay?" Shasheh asked, quickly jogging the distance between them and taking Zanna's wrist the way a blacksmith takes a horse's hoof. Shasheh's fingertips briefly took on a teal glow, and then she began massaging the energy into Zanna's hand.

"It's nothing," Zanna answered sincerely. "My spell hand always aches... The last few months, though, it's just been killing me when I cast." She rubbed her forehead, trying not to flinch as Shasheh sent out a particularly painful zap.

"Have you been practicing your healing?" the older Sheikah asked sternly.

Zanna sighed. "Kind of. I mean, somewhat regularly," she mumbled.

"Zanna..."

"I hate healing spells, Shasheh! They take way too much focus and they're so– personal. I don't like it." She toed the ground, knowing her tutor would now relentlessly drill her on healing for the next month.

"Zanna, a great empath like you? Your healing spells could be so powerful! Even more powerful than mine, if you applied yourself." She patted the girl's hand briskly and released it.

Zanna flexed, wiggling her fingers tentatively. "Wow, that really does feel better. Thanks, Shasheh."

"It's my job," she smiled. "I won't make you do anything else today, but when you come back tomorrow I expect you to be ready to focus on healing. There's no sense in wasting your potential simply because you don't like casting."

"All right," Zanna sighed resignedly.

"Oh! And you said your grandmother wanted a jug of Nykko's milk, right?" Nykko was Shasheh's spotted cow, and the only one in the village. It was too cold in Peak Province to raise anything other than mountain goats, but Shasheh put an incredible effort into keeping Nykko warm, dry, and comfortable. Both magic and elbow grease played equal part in the cow's well being.

Emerging from the nearby barn with a metal jug, Shasheh trudged across the snowy ground. "Here you are, my dear. Tell Helyn I said hello."

"Thanks, Shashe," Zanna smiled. "See you tomorrow!"

**oXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo**

As Zanna emerged from the winding path that led to Shasheh's property, she immediately recognized more sound in the village square than usual. The village was made up of a small cluster of about eighteen stone houses with a decent sized plaza in the middle. In the very center of the plaza was a dilapidated podium raised on a triangular stage, but the regularly heavy snowfall kept it hidden most of the year. Though all the buildings in the village were extremely modest, the largest house was at the top of the square, and it was Zanna's house. This building always belonged to the reigning village Elder, and that Elder had been Cedra for over forty years.

Today, there was a rather large crowd gathered around the main door. All of the children and young people in the village were there, and even some adults clustered about the large front windows, attempting to peer inside. A light snow swirled around them, making their furry white coats glisten in the lamp light emanating from the parlor within.

"Zanna!" A tall, lithe girl with golden eyes turned around and grabbed Zanna's shoulders with a vicelike grip.

"Ouch, Resha!" Zanna teased, batting her best friend's hands away. "You'll snap my collar bone!" Resha was a Gerudo who had been abandoned on the road as an infant, where she was fortunately discovered by one of the village's supply wagons. She was at least six feet tall, and could snap firewood in two with her bare hands. Zanna frequently teased her about being freakishly strong.

"Don't kill Zanna before she hears the good news!" Rowan interrupted, pushing through the crowd to join them.

"Hey, Rowan," Zanna smiled, feeling a familiar, bittersweet twinge at the sight of the hazel-eyed boy. She had spent her entire life with Rowan and his twin brother Caell. While she adored Rowan, Caell had been her more than just a friend– he was the missing piece of Zanna's soul. They had been so alike it was spooky, and rarely went even a day without seeing one another. This spring would mark the fourth anniversary of Caell's death. They had been only sixteen at the time of his passing. It was, Zanna believed, a wound that would never completely close.

"So, aren't you going to ask us why we're huddled around your home like a pack of wolves?" Resha asked, rubbing her hands together in anticipation.

"Why are you huddled around my home like a pack of wolves?" Zanna obliged.

"There's a royal messenger in your parlor at this very moment!" Resha exclaimed. "He arrived while you were training with Shasheh," Her excitement was obvious, in a moment of weakness the towering young woman broke down and began hopping up and down like a terrier.

"Don't cause an earth quake, Resha," Rowan smirked. Resha punched him in the arm, sending him reeling.

"Shut up, Rowan," the Gerudo replied. "Did you know Rowan thinks it's the Hero?"

"The Hero?" Zanna asked, brow furrowing. "The Hero who defeated Twilight a few years ago?"

Rowan nodded vigorously, watching Resha out of the corner of his eye to make sure he stayed out of range. "It is the Hero!" he defended. "I'd recognize him anywhere. Just because some people live under a rock, doesn't mean the rest of us do." He glared in the Gerudo's direction. "The chestnut mare, the green tunic, not to mention that sword. There's no mistaking it! The Hero's in your parlor."

Zanna's eyes were like saucers. "In my parlor?"

Her friends nodded.

"I'm out of here," Zanna declared, pushing people out of her way as she clambered to her front door.

"Remember everything so you can tell us about it later!" Resha called after her.

Zanna smiled wolfishly over her shoulder, giving a noncommittal shrug. And with that, she turned the doorknob and went inside.


	2. The Sheikah

**Triforce of the Gods**

**Chapter Two: The Sheikah**

Zanna had just stepped into the entryway when Helyn grabbed her by the hood of her coat and yanked her into the kitchen.

"Gods, Helyn, you scared me!" Zanna hissed. "How long were you waiting there to jump me?"

"I could hear your voice when you were talking to Rowan and Resha," Helyn answered simply. Zanna scowled and felt a chill go up her spine, ceaselessly amazed by Helyn's extraordinary hearing.

"Well, what's happening?" Zanna asked. "Is the Hero really in there with Grandmother?"

Helyn nodded solemnly, her unseeing gaze drifting toward the doorway that led to the parlor. "He hasn't been here too long... she's telling him a little bit about the village, and her term as Village Elder. There's a boy with the Hero also, who sounds about my age. He said his name was... Colin. He kind of talks like the Hero; I think he might be from Ordona too. It's a very nice accent, the way it rises and falls..." she trailed off, clearly listening. "Oh! I almost forgot to tell you, Grandmother wanted me to send you in as soon as you returned. As soon as you were decent, anyway."

Zanna rolled her eyes and sighed. "She's such a stickler about the whole head covering business. I just don't see the point..." Still muttering, she turned to go upstairs, but Helyn grabbed her arm.

"Wait, I brought your scarf down. Here." She pulled a soft white scarf from where it had been hanging on the wall, and traded it for the coat Zanna shrugged off.

"Thanks, Hel," Zanna said as she hastily wrapped the scarf across her head and her lower face in the traditional fashion. She went to go check her reflection in the frosty window, making sure it was tied correctly.

It was; nothing but her large, dark eyes was visible. Zanna carefully tucked the ends of the scarf beneath the white tunic she wore over her purple leggings. She peered into the glass, and the Sheikah eye embroidered on her chest stared unflinchingly back at her. As much as she hated her Grandmother's unyielding orthodoxy, Zanna could not deny that the symbol filled her with pride and courage. Set aglow by the dying fire and what little sunlight there was outside, her traditional silhouette was truly as old as the Sheikah themselves. Taking a deep breath, Zanna patted Helyn on the shoulder and then left the kitchen.

When she entered the parlor, her grandmother was laughing heartily at something the Hero had apparently said. The old woman turned and gestured for Zanna to come closer, so Zanna went to stand somewhat awkwardly by her grandmother's side. The Hero and his young traveling companion– Colin, as Helyn called him-- were comfortably seated on the sofa across from Cedra's customary high-backed chair, and they stared politely at Zanna as Cedra took her arm affectionately and introduced her.

"This is my other granddaughter, Zanna. She's the elder of the two, and studies sorcery, as is the custom in our village. Zanna, this is the Hero of Hyrule and his counterpart, Colin."

Zanna was keenly aware of her Grandmother's vicelike grip. It was obviously the old woman's way of saying: Be polite, or there will be dire consequences! Grimacing (and thankful no one could see it,) Zanna gracefully dropped to one knee and bowed as she had been taught when she was younger. This was the first time she'd ever had to actually perform the courtesy.

"We are honored by your presence," Zanna said stiffly. There was a brief pause during which she did not dare look up to see whether or not the young man was smiling. Cedra's eyes were boring holes into the back of Zanna's head.

"The honor is mine," the Hero said, sounding as if he felt just as awkward as she did. Tentatively, Zanna rose. She wasn't entirely sure how long she was supposed to kneel, but Cedra seemed satisfied. The old woman gestured for Zanna to take a seat by the fire, which Zanna did gratefully.

"Do you have any questions about our village, Link?" Cedra asked, folding her hands and smiling with a very sage-like expression. She was so happy to have a royal visitor that she was practically glowing. It was all Zanna could do to keep herself from giggling aloud.

"As a matter of fact," the Hero said, sending a quick glance in Colin's direction, "I do."

Cedra's old eyes crinkled into what was doubtlessly a wide, bright smile. "Please, do not hesitate to ask them."

The Hero nodded thankfully, with a warmth that suggested he already liked the old Sheikah quite a bit. Most people fell in love with Cedra very quickly; she was the quintessential matron. Zanna's fingers traced swirling patterns into the arms of her chair as she curiously studied the young man across from her. He was, as Rowan said, dressed in the legendary garb, and he had skin that was tanned by many afternoons outdoors. His eyes were an incredibly clear blue– not sick, like Helyn's, but crisp like the autumn sky and alight with courage. Something about him seemed incredibly earnest, which unsettled Zanna slightly. Such sincerity in strangers always made her feel... untrusting. Dishonest people, at least, could be depended upon to lie. And yet she could not take her eyes off the young man. He was exactly as she pictured the Hero would be (except a bit shorter, maybe,) and that made it almost impossible for Zanna to believe that he was really here. It was a strange, wonderful opportunity it was to meet such a legend... in her own home, no less!

"I was hoping to ask you about the history of this settlement, and see if you knew of any others like it. This was the only Sheikah village I was able to locate," Link explained. Hearing the Hero's words, the boy next to him nodded in agreement. The two looked much alike, and it was with hawk-like concentration that the boy watched Link's every move. Zanna wondered if they could be brothers.

Sighing, Cedra leaned back in her chair and tilted her head in remembrance. "No, I don't suppose you would be able to find any other active villages such as this one. We are an older settlement, founded little more than a decade after the first Great Hero mastered the sands of time in order to deliver Hyrule from evil. At our peak, we had roughly a thousand Sheikah– all of them skilled magicians. I was not alive to see such things, of course," she smiled kindly. "At the time of our founding, this was but one of many Sheikah training grounds, positioned all throughout Hyrule in order to better serve the royal family. There were many individual clans within the Sheikah tribe, unique and fierce and specialized. All of us served our country."

Though Zanna had heard the story many times before, there was something particularly moving about the way Cedra recalled the former glory of her people. At any moment it seemed her withered body would be swallowed by the enormous chair she sat in, and the pride in her clouding grey eyes could not hide her exhaustion. The old woman's words reminded Zanna of the Sheikah's inevitable extinction, which struck a fresh vein of anger within her. Link and Colin seemed spellbound by Cedra's tale, which at least assuaged Zanna a little bit. It was a relief to not have to hate the messengers. They clearly did not share responsibility for the travesties that belonged to the royal family and the Goddesses.

"Despite the Sheikah's dedication, however, the royal family eventually began dismissing us," Cedra continued. "Our services, in their eyes, had become a hindrance as opposed to a blessing. They did not release us at once, of course, but over the course of the next few centuries our culture began to dissolve. Many Sheikah abandoned their lives in shadow to take up as farmers and ranch hands, or to be healers in Hylian villages. But you see, because of our extraordinary secrecy, our rise and our descent were both carried out in silence. Indeed, few Hylians know any true Sheikah history beyond fleeting snippets they catch like smoke on the wind. For the most part, our suffering has been successfully cloaked in shadow. Our lives are silence. We protect that silence, for it is the ancient way of our people."

Zanna suppressed a sigh. This was the primary disagreement she had with her grandmother and with her culture. Because of their bullheaded refusal to abandon the old ways, they would die out. The thought nearly killed Zanna, who loved the Sheikah dearly despite their faults. If only they had stood up for themselves, instead of trying to fade away with dignity. If only they had stepped out of the shadows, and unified their highly diversified culture while they had the chance. But her anger was long displaced. There was no hope for such things anymore... This village was all there was.

"I'm sure you understand, Great Hero, that much has changed in Hyrule over the past three centuries. The last of the forest children have disappeared. How or why, no living soul can truly say– the shy creatures were always disconnected from the rest of the land. You have probably heard the speculation that they were swallowed by the mystic forest at last, absorbed into the trees themselves or transported to a realm sweeter and more nourishing than this one. Either way, they are no more." The words were grim and regretful. Shaking her head, the old Sheikah pressed on.

"The Gerudo empire fell shortly after the Kokiri left the forest. The mighty thieves now rove the country in bands of petty criminals– colorful but homeless wanderers. Decent sorcerers, when they want to be... but they rarely do. Their caravans carry dazzling performers, but– as I'm sure you know– their true genius is lies in their exceptional pickpocketing." Cedra chuckled here, shaking her head. "Beautiful but tragic– their cruel empire paid dearly for its extremism. The desert is empty.

"In light of these events, Hero, I imagine you can well understand that we have reached an era of decline. The smaller cultures of Hyrule are chipping off, as is nature's way. The weak are absorbed by the strong, so that we may go forward and grow as a whole.

"Because of the secrecy of our people, it is easy to think that perhaps we are an exception to the rule, or that there are more of us hiding in the shadows somewhere, waiting to be called forth. Sometimes, even I think this is true." Cedra's voice was thick and low, like the groan of an ancient tree in the wind. She chuckled sadly and sighed. "Oh, but this is just our illusion, as it has always been. The truth is that the Sheikah exhausted their purpose ages ago, and our flame will soon extinguish. When I became the head Village Elder forty years ago, I was determined to preserve a place in which the last of our kind could gather in dignity. Most of the residents here are descendants of Sheikah displaced from other villages. Even so, we lose villagers every year who choose to abandon the ancient ways and seize an ordinary life. If there are other communities like this one, I would be very surprised. I keep a very keen eye on the happenings of our kind. We are the last Sheikah village, and the last there will ever be."

There was a brief silence as the Hero– Link, Cedra had called him– seemed to digest the information he had just received. He frowned deeply, rubbing his chin. Zanna had a thousand questions about why such a story would be important to the Great Hero of Hyrule, but in her polite silence she felt as though she were not actually in the room. It was more like she was a ghost in the wall, greedily eavesdropping on the conversations of the living.

"I met a woman in a small, abandoned town once," Link said finally. "She was of Sheikah descent, but she was the only one left. Is it possible that there are little bands of Sheikah much smaller than this village, perhaps living in normal Hylian cities?" His eyebrows were knit and he seemed to be calculating something in his thoughts. Zanna could not help but feel his behavior was highly suspicious.

"Oh yes," Cedra said certainly, nodding for emphasis. "Yes, there undoubtedly are handfuls of us scattered about, here and there. If that is your interest, Zanna would be far more helpful than this old busybody," Cedra laughed, laying her hand on Zanna's arm again.

"Really?" the Hero asked with interest, clearly surprised that the younger Sheikah could be a more valuable historian than the old sage beside her.

There was an awkward beat as Zanna realized everyone was waiting for her to speak. "Oh! Well, yes. I could certainly give you tips on where to look. I am well-acquainted with our library."

Cedra was smiling wryly. "My granddaughter is very modest. She has spent most of her life poring over the historical texts of our people. All information I receive I pass to her, and she catalogues it faithfully. She takes a keen interest in her heritage."

Zanna rolled her eyes, desperately trying not to laugh. _If only she knew!_ Zanna thought bitterly. Most of the stories were too grim or too boring to be stomached for pure enjoyment! Once, Zanna scoured texts for the sake of finding answers. Now faithless, she maintained them only because she was afraid that if she did not do it then no one else would, and the library she had collected would be a waste. It was the only really productive thing she'd ever done.

"I can write everything down for you, and mark it on your map if you have one," Zanna offered reluctantly, feeling her grandmother's gaze. "The only problem is that there are very few consistencies in what I know about the current Sheikah. I know many different things about different people of Sheikah descent. It will be difficult to locate a particular individual. I would need time..." she trailed off uncertainly, staring at the hero expectantly.

He did not look particularly pleased. "I... am not sure how much time I have." An apologetic smile lit his face. "I'm sorry, I guess I should explain why I'm here, hounding you for information."

"Please, do not apologize!" Cedra insisted. "We are honored to have you in our home."

"And I thank you, but all the same..." Link said stubbornly. "It's not right to receive so much and not offer something in return. I'm actually here for Princess Zelda, as I'm sure you know. I don't really keep in regular contact with the princess– I live in Ordona– but she recently wrote me because of a reoccurring dream she'd been having. She doesn't know what it means, but she knows it revolves around one of the forgotten Sheikah who once served the royal family. The princess says the dream is a warning, and that it urges her to find the Sheikah at once. All of Hyrule is at stake. The problem is that even though I have to hurry, I have practically nothing to go on. All I really know about the person is that they'll have wings."

"Wings?" Zanna scoffed incredulously. Her grandmother glared at her so sharply that Zanna literally winced.

"That certainly is strange," Cedra amended diplomatically, still scowling at her granddaughter.

"I know," Link sighed. "They don't have to be real wings. At least, I don't think they do. Maybe they're symbolic or something, I don't know. All I can really do is talk to as many Sheikah as I possibly can, and hope that something turns up."

"Hmm... That is not an easy task," Cedra said thoughtfully. "I can't think of anyone in this village who has any association with flight or birds. We actually don't have many birds here, and we certainly don't have winged insects..."

"I thought maybe it could be a family crest with wings, or a surname having to do with flying," Link offered helpfully.

"That's rather clever," Cedra remarked. "And it's something that Zanna can certainly research."

Truthfully, Zanna was a little surprised. The idea of a winged family crest was actually quite feasible, considering the Sheikah were infamous for their tribal tattooing. Every clan had particular characteristics, and every family within a clan was unique.

"The Yerlli clan were royal messengers, long ago. Over the years, their tattoos would frequently contain wings to represent their speed. And then there were a few particularly acrobatic clans who adopted predatory birds in their tattooing to symbolize swooping in on their prey. I can think of a few other possibilities off the top of my head. I'll have to do a quick double-check and then see if there are any living descendants of these clans. It won't be a problem. Except... I'm not sure how quickly I could compile this information legibly. A few weeks, at least, or a month if you want something really useful."

The hopeful and determined expression Link had been wearing seemed to falter slightly when Zanna told him how long the process would take.

"Even then, there's no guaranteeing that the princess's dream is referring to a family crest," she added skeptically. "Dreams can be fickle."

"This is true," Cedra conceded gravely. "If time is so important, perhaps it would be wiser to take Zanna with you."

Zanna's jaw dropped. Did her Grandmother really just try to pawn her off to a complete stranger?! "Well, I could try to hurr–"

"That would work," Link smiled, relieved. "It would be much easier to just take a guide. You're sure you don't mind?"

Cedra interrupted before Zanna could even open her mouth. "Of course she doesn't mind. It is her duty to serve the royal family."

Exasperated, Zanna just nodded weakly and sank into her chair.

"Great. Then we'll leave tomorrow afternoon. Is that enough time to review your sources...?" he asked tentatively, but with just a hint of desperation.

Cedra did not answer for Zanna, but she did give her a very long, cold look. "Erm... yes. That's plenty of time. We can leave after lunch. Except... one question..." Zanna squirmed a bit, uncomfortably finding herself under both the hero and her grandmother's probing gaze. "How are we to know if we've correctly identified the person? What I mean is, what if there are three living descendants of Yerlli?" Zanna wasn't sure which embarrassed Cedra more– the fact that Zanna was being cynical or the fact that Zanna was doing a very good job of being cynical.

Link, however, just smiled and raised his index finger. "Now _that_ is actually a hurdle I am prepared to tackle. Zelda gave me a very specific indicator. Unfortunately I can't tell you what it is, but rest assured there will be no doubt whatsoever when we find the right man."

Cedra beamed, shakily lifting her old body from her chair. "Well, splendid! It's settled, then. Link, you can stay in our spare room tonight; I'll have your things brought in at once." She gave a lovely, warm chuckle. "Our accommodations are not as fine as the palace's, I'm sure, but I hope you will find them comfortable, at least! If you'll just follow me..." Cedra began leading the boys into the kitchen. "Would either of you care for some cookies? My Helyn is quite talented, despite her blindness..."

Zanna watched them go, breathing a sigh of relief. She settled into her chair and tugged hotly on her stupid scarf, which was itching something awful. Just what had Cedra gotten her into, anyway? A wild goose chase for a winged Sheikah? Zanna knew all about prophecies, but this certainly seemed silly.

At least the hero was... well, everything she'd thought he'd be, to say the least. It might be fun to travel with a legend, just for a little while...

**oXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo**

"Well, I don't believe it," Resha said for about the millionth time. The three friends were in Zanna's library, slowly sifting through the family trees and plucking out anything that might prove useful.

"You didn't believe it was him in the first place, either," Rowan smirked.

Zanna chuckled, re-shelving a book of Sheikah lore. "I can hardly fathom it myself," she admitted. "It's like he stepped out of a storybook, right into my parlor."

"He practically did," Rowan observed. His dark brown hair fell into his eyes as he pored over a genealogy scroll, and his face was hidden. Zanna liked him best that way, with his bangs so prominent. Caell had kept shoulder-length hair– no bangs, just a single braid on the left side of his face, in which he always wore a hawk feather. Beautiful, long, chestnut hair... she could still remember how horrifically it had darkened with blood on his last day...

"What about this one, Zanna?" Resha asked, unaware that she was interrupting her friend's reverie.

Zanna jumped a little. "Uh... which?" She turned around so that she could see Resha on the other side of the room. It was a simple study, containing nothing more than a rug, a doorway, and four walls covered in shelving– all of which were packed with tomes. There were even some books stacked in one of the corners, piled nearly four feet high.

Resha double-checked the volume she was holding. "It looks like... the Tsimez tribe. They were messengers, right?"

"Oh them," Zanna said with a dismissive nod. "Yeah, they were messengers, but only between the palace and the Zora. They used waterways most of the time, and used a fish crest more often than not."

Resha sighed. "Well, what a pity. They've got quite a few survivors listed."

Zanna laughed. "I bet they do, and I bet they're all Zora. The Tsimez interbred with them, even before the Sheikah started disappearing."

"You're kidding," Rowan balked, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "That's awful!"

"Don't be racist, Rowan," Resha chided.

"I'm not being a racist!" he protested. "But... come on! I mean, where— how did they— and the Zora lay eggs..."

Both girls burst out laughing as Rowan blushed profusely. "We'll explain it when you're older," Zanna teased.

"It's not that! It's just that fish are not exactly my specialty, and I don't understand, from a _technical_ point of view..." His protests only made Zanna and Resha laugh harder. "Oh, just shove off," Rowan muttered finally, smiling a little despite himself. "I'm not embarrassed for not knowing all about the little fishies. You two look like a bunch of perverts, from where I'm sitting."

"Stop looking at your perverted friends then and get back to that genealogy," Zanna chuckled. "Just pick out the lines with descendants and I can easily identify the ones that are associated with wings..."

"You know," Resha said suddenly. "It's a shame we can't go with you, isn't it?"

Rowan looked up from his lap, eyes widening a little. Zanna frowned.

Resha continued. "I just mean, you'll probably get lonely. And it'll be awkward to be all alone with the Hero. Not to mention the fact that if you're leading him on the back roads, you're bound to run into a Gerudo caravan eventually."

Zanna wavered slightly. Resha had a point. If they came across a Gerudo caravan, Resha would be a very useful counterpart to have. Even though she was Sheikah, her obvious Gerudo blood allowed her to negotiate with the wandering gypsies. Resha could procure information, secret routes, special goods, and helped to protect against fraudulent deals. The Gerudo never swindled one of their own kind. "That's actually a very astute observation..." Zanna admitted grudgingly.

"Damn straight," Resha nodded confidently. "I'm a good ally to have. And of course if you take me you'll have to take Rowan, too because... uh... you know. He's good at..." she trailed off, studying Rowan helplessly. "He's very useful for... Well he's cute, at least. Maybe he can seduce some desperate old Sheikah in exchange for information."

"Hey!" Rowan complained, slamming his scroll shut in annoyance. "I am not going to play the manwhore– not now, not ever."

Resha smacked him on the back of the head. "Do you want to come along, or what?!"

Rowan looked at Resha, then at Zanna and sighed. "Okay. I'll play the manwhore."

Zanna snickered, running a hand through her sheets of ebony hair. "Well... I guess if Grandma is making me take this trip, the least she can do is let me take a few companions, right?"

Resha clutched Rowan's arm so tightly that Rowan's face began taking on strange, contorted expressions.

"BUT–" Zanna interrupted with one hand held up authoritatively. "You'll have to share a horse. We can't take three horses from the village; it wouldn't be fair."

"Of course," Resha said, waving away the request. "We can share no problem, right Rowan?" Before he could answer, she squeezed him into a lung-crushing hug and spun him around. "This is going to be great!! I can't believe it; we're going on a mission with the Hero!!"

Zanna looked from Resha's glowing brown face to Rowan's suffocating blue one and smiled. Maybe this journey would be fun, after all.

**oXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo**

She remained in the study long after her friends had gone home for the night, and the lamp light had whittled down to a single candle. Zanna rubbed her eyes wearily as she discarded the last book. That was it, then. All the Sheikah descendants. Though she'd put the ones with wing crests on top, she'd included every Sheikah who may be alive– and the stack of family trees was still only as high as the width of her pinky. One glance out the window at the luminous half-moon told Zanna that it was quite late, but she gathered her stack of parchment and decided she could at least condense the names into a list that would help her access information more quickly. She wanted to finish the job tonight.

She crept down the stairs quietly, her scarf haphazardly tossed over one shoulder. Zanna headed toward the parlor, where the writing desk was. As she stalked down the hall, she noticed with some satisfaction that the fire was still crackling in the fireplace, which meant she would only have to stoke it a little.

Zanna stepped through the doorway– and screamed.

Her papers flew up in a shower as she ducked out again, snatching her scarf and anxiously trying to fit it over her face. There, on the couch, calmly watching the fireplace as if he lived there, was the Hero of Hyrule. He had immediately jumped up, rushing to ease Zanna's discomfort.

"I'm sorry," he appeased, "I didn't mean to frighten you."

Zanna waved her hands, backing up, noticing the way the Hero was staring at her waist-length tresses. "Oh please," she begged, "get back. You can't see–"

He moved forward, shaking his head. "I promise I won't hurt you; it's all right. I was just watching the fire..."

"Please, turn around! It's not that I'm afraid it's just–" Zanna stopped and sighed when the Hero put his hands on her shoulders, smiling down at her serenely.

"There, see? No harm done. I'm sorry I caught you off guard; I didn't think anyone was still up. I hope you don't mind me being here..." he trailed off politely, removing his hands.

"It's not that," Zanna said resignedly, giving up on her scarf. "It's just... you aren't supposed to see my face."

Link laughed, tickled by her genuine disappointment. "I won't tell anyone," he promised, stooping to collect her papers.

"Oh, it wouldn't matter if you did," Zanna mused, relaxing a little as she used the time to properly tie her headdress. "It's a pointless tradition these days... there's so little interest in the Sheikah that we'd be anonymous even if we took off all our clothes and screamed our names in the middle of the Castle Town marketplace," Zanna chuckled darkly. "Thank you," she added as he placed the stack of parchment on the desk and turned back to look more closely at the young sorceress. A brief flicker of disappointment crossed his face when he realized she'd covered up already.

"Tradition isn't always a bad thing," he smiled. "Although it's too bad you have to hide that magnificent hair. I didn't even get a good look at it."

Zanna grinned. "Grandmother would kill me if she knew you'd gotten a look at all. I'm just the worst about this scarf..." she sighed. "I'm always forgetting to put it on when I leave the house and it drives Grams absolutely nuts."

"Your grandmother seems like a very wise woman," Link observed, leaning on the writing desk. His sapphire eyes danced in the flickering light of the fire.

"Oh sure," Zanna smiled. "She's ancient all right, but it's not without its payoffs. She's made the most of her years." Despite her characteristic irreverence, Zanna's voice was warm. After a moment of silence, her attention snapped back to the desk. "Well," she began awkwardly, "I suppose I should..."

"Oh, sorry!" Link said, moving away from the desk. "I won't be in your way." After examining the thin stack of parchment for a moment, his face fell. "Is this...?"

Zanna felt genuinely sorry for him for a minute, briefly forgetting her own travesties. "Yep. Unfortunately, this is all that's left of us. I'm going to make a list with only names. Once I do that, it'll be down to about a page. One page of Sheikah." She sighed sadly, sitting down at the desk and pulling out a clean sheet of parchment. "Sometimes even I can't believe how near we are to extinction," Zanna admitted.

There was a short pause, as Link watched her begin the list. "I hope we find this... winged Sheikah Zelda is so concerned about," he said after awhile. "I'll feel awful if I drag you on some wild goose chase... Not that I doubt the princess. It's just that..."

Zanna looked up at him, and saw him staring at the list doubtfully. "I know," she said gently. "It's a very small number of people. I can't say that I know much about our Princess, but I can say that I know a thing or two about prophecy, and if this winged Sheikah exists... he's definitely on this list. Look at it this way– a smaller list means fewer people to interview," she concluded, smiling crookedly despite the grim circumstances of her people.

Link seemed surprised for a moment, but then he chuckled. "I guess that's true. Thanks, Zanna. And thank you for agreeing to come along with us. I know you were probably reluctant, but it's actually a great service to Hyrule."

Zanna looked suddenly stricken, but Link could not see it through her scarf.

"Well, I won't keep you. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

She was numb for a moment, but then realized he was leaving and dropped her quill. "Link!"

He turned, mildly surprised. "Yes?"

"Is she... kind?"

His brow furrowed in confusion. "Who?"

"The Princess. Is she a compassionate person?"

Link smiled with a bit of amusement, rubbing his chin. "Well... yes, I'd say so. She'd die before she let harm come to Hyrule, anyway."

Zanna nodded slowly.

"Good night, Zanna," Link said, giving a little wave.

"Good night," she murmured.

Zanna's brow creased against a barrage of doubt, her fingers curling and uncurling at her sides. She did not immediately return to her list, but spent several hours staring into the fire, watching it crackle and whip until it exhausted itself into a languid glow and lingered– too stubborn to extinguish completely.


	3. The Gerudo

**Triforce of the Gods**

**Chapter Three: The Gerudo**

_THUNK!_

Link, Cedra, and Colin looked up from the breakfast table in surprise, staring at the place where Zanna had dropped an enormous satchel.

"Good morning, Zanna," Helyn said casually, without missing a beat.

"For goodness sakes child, what is all that?" Cedra asked, blinking suspiciously at the square-shaped sack.

"It's all my things," Zanna replied lightly.

"Well what on earth is in there? The library?" The old woman laughed a bit, her eyes glittering with amusement.

Zanna just stared blankly back at her. "Actually... yes."

Helyn hid behind her napkin, dissolving into a fit of giggles, and Colin was fighting a smile of amazed humor.

"Don't you laugh at me, Impree Helyn," Zanna commanded firmly, using Helyn's full name. Impree was their tribe. Zanna straightened her shoulders and held her head very high, trying to appear dignified. "I only packed the tomes I may need. It's not as if I'll be able to come running back whenever I wish, and I don't want to be caught unprepared."

Helyn opened her mouth to make some sort of joke, but Link spoke first. "That's probably a good idea," he said with a nod, managing to speak civilly despite the fact that he, too, appeared somewhat surprised by the enormous bag.

"Yes, well, I thought so." Zanna said happily. She sat down, gingerly moving the bag to the floor by her feet and then pulling out a beaten-looking scroll. "Actually, our first destination ought to be a breeze," she explained as the others ate. She herself was far too nervous to have any kind of an appetite. "I mentioned last night that the most infamously winged tribe was the Yerlli tribe, right?"

Link nodded, his brow furrowing with attention. "Yes, I think so."

"Good. Well, there are only two of them still alive, unfortunately. One of them, Barlli, was eighty-eight as of six years ago. My feeling is that he's probably dead by now."

A frown settled upon the hero's face as he set his fork down and leaned in a little. "But what about the other? How old is he?"

Zanna smiled mischievously. "Actually, it's a she." Zanna grabbed the back of her chair and dragged it around the table with a loud, obnoxious scraping noise, causing Helyn to cover her ears.

"Zanna! That is no way to behave in front of a guest!" Cedra chided in exasperation, with a hint of embarrassment.

"It's all right," Link rushed to assure her, "I don't mind."

"You're much too kind," Cedra smiled gratefully, sending Zanna a warning look filled with poison.

But Zanna was much too absorbed in her scroll. She scooted her chair between Link and Colin, spreading the document out between them.

"It's almost absurd how easy this will be." She pointed down toward the end of what appeared to be a family tree. "The Yerlli messengers were the last tribe to be dismissed by the royal family. When they finally were released, they were so dedicated to the royal family that they decided to become ordinary soldiers!" She gestured excitedly, her elbow hitting Colin's glass of milk. Luckily, he caught it before it spilled.

"Oops, sorry about that. Nice catch though," Zanna smiled– distracted for only a split second before she dove in again. "Despite the Sheikah's incredible loyalty, however, the royal palace saw the action as a gesture of disobedience." She couldn't completely hide the flicker of disdain that touched her lips. "Hyrule was in the middle of a war on the Western border. There was a supply fort in Gisanko Valley that Hyrule desperately needed to capture, so they used the Sheikah soldiers to go in and conquer it. Ultimately they succeeded, but the battle was basically the royal family's scheme to get rid of the Yerlli once and for all. It cost over 3500 lives to secure the fort– at least three-fourths of which were Sheikah. It was almost genocide." Zanna took a deep breath, preparing to elaborate. "The interesting thing about that battle was that Hyrule actually need to advan—"

"I'm sorry," Link interrupted, putting one gauntlet-clad hand on top of Zanna's to stop her. "That was a despicable act, and it's a very good thing to know about. But... what does this have to do with the living descendant of Yerlli?"

Zanna was stricken for a moment, staring at Link almost as if he had startled her. She blinked, then sighed. "It... well... nothing, I guess," she muttered sulkily.

"Not that it isn't interesting..." Link said apologetically, unsettled by her suddenly quenched fervor.

Zanna shrugged. "I guess I was getting a little off-track. The point is, though, that two families decided not to join the Hyrulean army. They became merchants, but they preserved their Sheikah blood and maintained a small community in Castle Town for over one hundred years. It's actually only recently that they've wheedled down to their very last descendent, and luckily for us she still runs a shop in Castle Town! It doesn't get any simpler than that."

She beamed proudly, and for the first time Link actually looked very pleased with Zanna's information. "That's perfect!" he exclaimed. "We'll be able to contact her immediately. Who is she?"

Zanna pointed firmly at a single, isolated name– far down toward the end of the scroll. "Right there," she declared confidently. "Fanadi."

"Fanadi?" Link echoed, eyes widening.

"You know of her, Link?" Cedra asked, pleasantly surprised.

"Well... yes, I guess so. She's read my fortune a few times. I never would have expected her to be a real sorceress, though– she does hokey palm readings for ten rupees a piece. It doesn't seem likely that she would be the winged Sheikah that Zelda is so worried about finding," he said uncertainly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"But she is the descendent of Yerlli," Cedra pointed out wisely. "And things are not always as they appear."

"I agree with Grandmother," Zanna said thoughtfully. "Maybe Fanadi doesn't seem like the kind of person Princess Zelda would be interested in hunting down, but if it's a wing crest you're looking for, Fanadi is definitely your best bet. The Yerlli used wings as their crest consistently for more than two centuries, and she's the only one left."

Link nodded pensively, rubbing his chin. "All right then," he said finally, his eyes filling with determination. "We'll depart as soon as you're ready."

**oXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo**

The five of them left the village just as the sun had reached its highest point in the clear, grey sky. They waved as the village slowly became smaller and smaller, the huddled mass of white-cloaked figures gradually blending in with the snow.

Zanna sighed, turning to face forward again in her saddle. She was leading the group, followed by Link, then Colin, then Resha and Rowan.

"I still don't see why you have to be in the front," Rowan muttered angrily.

"Because," Resha shrugged flippantly. "I'm bigger and stronger than you are."

"Yeah, but... I'm still the man..." Rowan protested weakly.

Resha laughed heartily, elbowing Rowan so hard that he nearly tumbled off the horse. "You can't be much of one if your pride is so easily dwarfed," she snickered.

Rowan was speechless. "Resha!! I am not–! I'll have you know that I am very–"

"That's enough!" Zanna called back at them. "I don't think we need to hear any more of that– cut it out or you can stay behind."

Rowan and Resha's conversation dissolved into a murmur of bitter muttering and laughter. After about an hour of travel, they reached an inconspicuous cave entrance. Zanna hopped off her horse and approached the cave mouth confidently. It was very small, and seemed to be close to collapse. Certainly the horses would never fit, let alone enter of their own volition.

"What is she doing?" Colin asked Link, bringing his horse up beside the hero's.

"I don't know..." Link replied uncertainly.

They watched as Zanna planted her feet in front of the mouth of the cave, held out her hands and closed her eyes. After a split second, a sparkling purple fog began to swirl out of her palms, creating a large whirlpool parallel to the cave entrance. There was a gentle flash of light before, suddenly, the tiny hole in the side of the mountain became an enormous doorway, wide open to what appeared to be an underground road.

"Woah!" Colin gasped.

Even Link seemed amazed. "What is that?" he asked Rowan and Resha, twisting around in his saddle.

"Oh, that's the road to Castle Town," Resha shrugged. "You have to use sorcery to see it, so only Sheikah and Gerudo can pass. It's twice as fast as the highway."

Zanna swung back up onto her horse, grinning wolfishly at Link. "So?" she asked. "What do you think?"

Link shook his head, at a loss for words. "Let's just say I wish I would have known about this a week ago. It took me three days to get to your village!"

Zanna laughed. "Hylians are adorable. You spend all your time coming up with great big buildings and clever gadgets, but you never bother to learn basic sorcery. It comes in handy, you know." She kicked her horse and headed into the massive cavern. Link hesitated for a moment but eventually followed, and soon the party was all safely inside.

The cavern was so huge that two horses could easily walk side by side with room to spare. The ceiling was twenty feet above them, with large, wet stalactites hanging down. Magically lit lanterns lined the walls, giving the whole road an eery glow, and every mile or so there was a small, room-like area off to the left or right, where one could pull off the road and set up camp for the night.

"This is incredible!" Link exclaimed next to Zanna, his head craned back to see up into the dark, craggy ceiling. "And this was all built by sorcery?"

"Sure," Zanna shrugged, although she was inwardly very proud of the accomplishments of her people. "Took over one hundred years to carve, but I think it was worth it."

"Yeah," Link breathed in awe. "I'd say so."

Zanna watched him while he was busy staring at the ceiling, and her smile was obvious despite the fact that most of her face was hidden by a scarf and a hood. Link's appreciation for the road made her feel... warm. His piercing blue eyes were wide, sandy blond hair framing his strong, well-sculpted face. He possessed a strange but perfect balance of masculinity and beauty, Zanna thought to herself. She couldn't quite explain it... Link noticed her staring, and Zanna quickly looked away– blushing heavily. Thank goodness for her scarf!

Meanwhile, Rowan and Resha were singing an old Sheikah folk song to entertain Colin, who was enraptured despite the fact that the pair seemed to be singing in two different keys.

"_The shadows overtook him then,_

_his last command fulfilled._

_And he left his wife a-weeping there_

_alone upon the hill._

_Warriors may triumph,_

_and sorcerers may shine._

_But not a soul can outsmart Death_

_when it comes his time."_

Colin applauded enthusiastically, smiling at the two Sheikah. "That's kind of a sad song," he said, pushing his golden hair out of his eyes.

Rowan nodded. "It is. The Sheikah have always had a fascination with death, and a great respect for it. Nobody ever lives in a Sheikah legend," he said gravely.

"Not even the heros?" Colin asked.

Resha snorted, shaking her head. "Especially not the heroes. You take on a special quest as a Sheikah and you're just asking to be killed in battle."

Colin looked back and forth between the two of them, squinting a little. "So... that means before we finish our adventure, both of you are going to die in battle?"

Resha and Rowan blinked at one another before looking back at Colin. "Do you want us to die?" Resha asked sharply, glaring.

"Er– no!!" Colin exclaimed, eyes wide with alarm as he looked up at the towering woman. "That's not what I meant!"

"Then how about you stop calling it an 'adventure?' You'll jinx us!" Resha demanded, her yellow Gerudo eyes virtually glowing with her unspoken threat.

"Oh– right. Sure. Sorry," Colin placated, looking somewhat mortified.

There was a brief pause.

"Wanna hear another song?" Rowan asked cheerfully.

"No!" Colin begged. "I mean... not right now."

They continued traveling for many hours, talking lightly amongst themselves. Zanna convinced Link to tell some stories about how he'd defeated Ganondorf, and Rowan was snoozing soundly against Resha's back. When they began to get hungry, they pulled off the road and set up a campsite.

"We should probably get a little bit of sleep before we continue," Zanna said as Rowan magically lit a fire in the empty pit and began passing out the dried food they'd packed. "We'll still be there by tomorrow morning," she added with a glance at Link.

He sighed, nodding. "I suppose a few hours couldn't hurt. Some rest would do us good."

It didn't take long before they'd all eaten and pulled out their bedding. Rowan and Colin slept side-by-side in one corner, while Resha slept close to the road so she could wake up if any Gerudo approached. Link and Zanna remained awake, close to the fire with their backs against the far wall.

"So you told me about how you defeated Ganon," Zanna said, stretching her legs out in front of her. "But what ever happened to your friend, Midna?"

"Hmm..." Link said, smiling despite the sadness that had crept into his eyes. "That's a good question, I guess. Once Ganondorf was defeated, she went back to her own dimension. And for safety's sake... she destroyed the mirror." He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the stone wall behind him, remembering. "We didn't even get to say goodbye... not in the proper way, at least. It's ridiculous, but even after three years I still look for her sometimes when I'm not thinking. I know that she's gone but at the same time..." Link trailed off, staring pensively into the flames.

"When you're close to someone, you carry them with you out of habit," Zanna agreed. "It's almost reflexive... like they're a natural part of you that should be there."

Surprised, he looked over at her and nodded. "Yeah, that's a good way of putting it," he said. Link was polite enough not to pry, but his expression was filled with curiosity.

Zanna smiled. "You wouldn't know this," she said slowly, "but Rowan actually had a twin brother once."

"Really?" He glanced over at Rowan, who was sleeping peacefully despite the fact that he was snoring loudly enough to wake the dead. Colin shifted in his sleep, unconsciously throwing an arm over the Sheikah's face. Rowan jerked with a snort, and the snoring stopped. Zanna chuckled.

"What happened to him?" Link asked.

She shook her head, as if it would somehow lessen the bitterness of the memory. "It was a careless accident," she explained. "His name was Caell. I love Rowan, don't get me wrong, but... Caell was the best friend I ever had. He was unlike anyone I've ever known." Zanna paused uncertainly, wondering if she should go on. Perhaps it wasn't right to tell these things to an outsider... And yet part of her felt reassured by Link's presence. In a strange way, she felt like she _should_ talk about it, as if sharing Caell with someone outside of their little village would be a good way to honor his memory.

She decided to continue. "The two of us were out on the mountain one day, doing something we shouldn't have been doing... I don't remember what. Gathering snowballs to ambush Rowan, probably," she smirked. "It was stupid to go out by ourselves, but we were only sixteen. We didn't understand yet that, in the mountains, the smallest mistake can cost you your life." Zanna tilted her head slightly as she watched the dancing flames, inevitably reminded of Caell's body burning atop his funeral pyre.

"I was hiding from him behind a tree, and he was trying to find me. I was so busy trying not to laugh that I didn't hear the wolfos behind me until it was well within reach. It swiped me twice before I was able to roll out of the way– I still have the scars," she said with more than a hint of disgust. "I hate those despicable creatures. It would have finished me off, if Caell hadn't heard me scream. He came running as quickly as he could, but neither of us were very good sorcerers at that point. All he had was this little dagger." Zanna used two fingers to show how small the blade was. "He went after it, but it seemed to annoy the creature more than anything else," she said in a voice that was thick with regret.

"He attacked the wolfos?" Link asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

"Yeah," Zanna sighed, laughing a little. "He killed the bastard, too. My coat is made from the pelt of that damn wolf. But... he didn't make it. Not even back to the village. If I'd have carried him faster, my Grandmother would have been able to heal him, but–" She took a deep breath, fighting off visions of the long journey back to the town square, leaving a trail of blood in the snow, Caell's battered body slung over her shoulder as his breathing grew fainter and fainter in her ear. His hair– once long and splendid– tainted red and blown in her face by the winter wind.

"Every time I see Rowan..." Zanna murmured.

"You see Caell," Link finished, now fully understanding her earlier comment.

Zanna nodded slowly, and a bittersweet smile gradually made its way across her face. "Exactly," she said. "But I'm glad, because it means I still have Caell with me. It's good to remember the dead that way."

Link raised an eyebrow, shaking his head skeptically. "It doesn't feel very good to me," he said.

She had to laugh. "Well, I didn't say it _feels_ good, I just said it _is_ good," Zanna corrected. "But I guess that's stereotypical Sheikah thinking. We're obsessed with the dead."

"Cheerful," Link observed dryly.

Zanna shook her head, smirking as she watched the fire dance inside its circle of stone. "You have no idea," she muttered. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, each watching the flame, lost in their own thoughts.

"I'm sorry about your friend," Link said after a while.

Zanna looked up in surprise, and she cocked her head, studying him curiously. "Thanks," she said. "I'm sorry about Midna."

"We're both sorry, then. At least we have something in common," he replied with a wry smile.

Zanna laughed. "I would have preferred a shared interest in archery, but this works too."

She yawned and rose to her feet, stretching her arms up over her head. Her body was demanding rest, and if she ignored it any longer she feared she would simply keel over and pass out. As she climbed into her sleeping bag, Zanna realized that for the first time in quite awhile she felt like she might actually be able to get a decent night's sleep. Talking about Caell to someone who had never met him was more of a relief than she had imagined it would be... She felt lighter, somehow– the way she usually felt after a good cry. Zanna snuggled into the cozy softness of her sleeping bag, no longer worried about the nightmares that would almost certainly come to her.

"Goodnight, Link," she murmured before drifting off. "Thanks for listening to my rambling."

The hero smiled.

**oXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo**

Zanna couldn't have been asleep for more than a few hours when she was shaken awake. Her eyes fluttered open to reveal Rowan stooped over her, his soft, hazel gaze the only way of recognizing him behind his scarf. But, oh, how well she knew that gaze...

"Zanna, snap out of it," he commanded, shaking her a little harder.

"I'm awake!" she hissed, propping herself up on her hands. "What is it?" Zanna scanned the campsite hazily. Link was up and armed with Colin by his side, and they both were near Resha, who was standing in the middle of the road. The music of a single, sad, violin met Zanna's ears, and she gasped.

"Gerudo," Rowan nodded, before Zanna could even say anything. "They're coming way faster than usual, and it sounds like just a single caravan. Resha's got her hood off already."

"Right," Zanna said firmly, standing up and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She went to wait with the others. Resha stood far in front of them, her high, red ponytail shining in the lamplight. She was truly beautiful in her own exotic way, Zanna couldn't help but think. Tall and slender with rich mocha skin and a profile that was worthy of a marble statue... Try as she might, Zanna had to admit that she would probably never be as gorgeous as Resha.

"You didn't tell me she was a Gerudo," Link said, snapping Zanna out of her thoughts.

"Oh yeah..." she said, nodding as she realized he was right. "I guess I had almost forgotten myself. We tease her all the time about being so big, but... we think of her as just one of us."

"We adopted her," Rowan grinned, folding his arms over his chest. Even behind his scarf Zanna could see that the young Sheikah was blushing as he studied Resha's face. He was always flushed when Resha had her scarf off. Zanna suspected that, on some deeply subconscious level, Rowan was in love with her. Or at least wanted to kiss her very badly.

"You look a little hot under that scarf, Rowan," Zanna said wryly. "Maybe you should take your coat off. Or Resha's coat for that matter..."

If possible, Rowan got even redder. "Shut up, Zanna," he said huffily, but there was a pleading sort of desperation in his voice. Zanna laughed.

Resha reeled around, glaring. All four of them shirked under her gaze, which burned like a tiger's eyes in the dark. "All of you, be quiet!" she commanded. "They're coming."

Slowly, becoming clearer and clearer in the murky light of the cavern, a Gerudo wagon rounded the corner. The wooden desert schooner was old and rickety, with a painted cloth top showing images of dancers and various acts of debauchery. There was a large hole right in the top of the canvas which had been clumsily patched with black fabric, and the wagon was drawn by a tired old donkey who had certainly seen better days. Interestingly, no other wagons followed. It was not a caravan, but rather a single, solitary wagon.

The Gerudo who was driving the schooner pulled the donkey to a stop, and hopped off the wagon. The violin music ended suddenly, and four more Gerudo crept cautiously from behind the wagon. All of them were barefoot. They looked worse for wear, even by Gerudo standards. Their high ponytails were rumpled and oily, their faces were dirty and the matching purple skirts they all wore– usually flamboyant and cheerful– were torn and stained in several places.

The head Gerudo was dressed slightly better, but she looked no less exhausted. The jewel on her forehead was crooked, and her dancing belt of coins was missing several large pieces. She wore a dark green scarf on her head, which indicated her leadership.

"Sister," she said to Resha in a deep, resonant voice. "You are dressed as one of the tribespeople. Why do you travel this way?"

"I could ask the same of you," Resha pointed out. "I joined the Sheikah long ago, when I was separated from my family. But what about you? Where's the rest of your caravan?"

The young Gerudo sighed, and rubbed the dark circles under her eyes. "We have been traveling for two days without sleep just to escape them," she said miserably.

Resha's eyes widened. "Why? What happened?"

The woman looked warily at Resha's travel companions, then lowered her voice slightly. "They have fallen desperately ill," she said nervously. "Sister, if I were you, I would turn around now. Some disease has taken my kin, and they no longer recognize us. They've lost their minds– they're attacking everything that crosses their path. You must turn around immediately."

"We aren't turning around," Zanna insisted, hands on her hips.

Rowan elbowed her hard in the ribs, shocked. "Shut up, Zanna!" he hissed.

But Zanna just shook her head, approaching Resha and the Gerudo leader. The Gerudo woman narrowed her eyes, her right hand falling to a place on her skirt that doubtlessly hid a dagger.

"You are not a Gerudo, Sorcerer. This business does not concern you," she growled.

Zanna did not relent. "That's exactly right," she said, nodding. "I _am_ a sorcerer, and so are my companions. We can heal your caravan if we come across them. Wouldn't you like us to help them, if we can?"

"Do you think we are so primitive?" the Gerudo spat, her tired face glowing with fury. "Of course we tried to heal them! You are not the only ones capable of petty magic! There is something foul about this illness; I don't know what it is. But if our great healers fell victim to the curse, I severely doubt that anything more could be accomplished by a group of idiot mountain-dwellers. I've warned you. If it's death you want, keep going!"

The angry Gerudo hopped back onto her wagon as the four other women clambered in through the back, and then with a flick of the reigns they were off again. Link and Rowan had to pull Colin out of the way as the wagon passed, revealing the frightened stares of the four women within. Zanna and Resha watched the wagon rattle out of sight before speaking.

"What the hell was that, Zanna?" Resha rounded on her, her voice filled with annoyance. "Your interference scared them away before I could even get any specific information!"

Zanna wasn't listening, however. Her brow was furrowed in concentration as she watched the space where the wagon had been, and her pupils were shrinking and growing erratically.

"Did she say her caravan had fallen ill?" Link asked Resha gravely.

Resha just nodded. "Why?"

Link's face was very somber as he too now turned to stare down the road. "I think... I think this is the beginning of the curse Zelda was worried about."

"What do you mean?" Rowan asked, alarmed.

"The winged Sheikah is supposed to be able to stop a curse that's come over Hyrule. And the curse is... a plague. An illness that takes over people's minds."

"And she's sick!" Zanna gasped, her eyes still fixed but unseeing on the place where the wagon had been. Everyone stared at her uneasily, unsure of what she was saying. "She's sick," Zanna repeated emphatically. "I can feel it through my empathy. That Gerudo caught the illness and she knows it– that's why she's so irritable. She's trying to get those four women out of the cavern before she falls ill. And she's so afraid..." Zanna said, trying to gesture something with her hands that could express the tremendous fear that the Gerudo woman was feeling. "I've never sensed anything like it– she's utterly terrified."

"Zanna is an empath," Rowan explained to Link, who looked completely lost. "She senses what other people are feeling. It's kind of... her specialty."

Link nodded slowly, warily looking at Zanna's wide, unfocused gaze. "But... what does that mean for us? Should we follow the Gerudo?"

Zanna shook her head forcefully, snapping out of her trance. "No. We can't afford it. I've never felt anyone so afraid in my entire life. If it's true that only the winged Sheikah can stop this curse, then we need to locate her immediately. We've got to keep going."

The group exchanged nervous glances, and Rowan put his hand on Colin's shoulder. "What about the infected Caravan?" he asked, looking worried. "We won't be any good if we catch the disease ourselves."

"I don't think that's the problem," Resha interjected. "I can put up a barrier around all of us that should be able to keep out disease. What we should be worried about is how violent they're going to be."

"Right..." Link said. "Because if they were violent enough to drive away their own family..."

Zanna nodded. "It's going to be pretty bad. And we can't kill them because they're just sick, not evil. Depending on how many there are, we might not be able to make it through..."

"We don't have any choice," Link said firmly, drawing his sword. "We have to stop this plague before it gets to the heart of the country, which means we have to find the winged Sheikah as soon as possible."

"You're right..." Zanna agreed, motivated slightly by his courage. "We can't turn back now. Everyone ready your horses and your weapons– we'll move out as soon as we're packed."


	4. The Masquerade

**Triforce of the Gods**

**Chapter Four: The Masquerade**

They walked the road in silence, all of them pulling their horses instead of riding them so that they could move slowly and with little noise. Link kept casting nervous glances Zanna's way– probably noticing that with every step she withered a little more. Zanna could feel his concern, but it was nothing in comparison to what she felt further down the road: a cloud of emotion so thick and bitter that she almost choked.

Eventually a soft but dreadful noise reached them from up ahead. It was a desperate scraping, intermixed with the low, hair-raising hum of human moaning.

"What is that?" Resha asked tensely, unsheathing her scimitars.

"It doesn't sound like a party," Rowan muttered.

"Oh really? Because I could have sworn that's what it was," Resha said sarcastically.

Suddenly, Zanna gave a soft cry and tripped, tumbling to the ground despite her best efforts to grab onto her horse. Link was beside her in an instant, pulling her to her feet.

"Are you all right? Do you need to stop?" he asked, frowning as he studied her troubled expression.

"No, it's okay," she insisted in embarrassment, waving Link's hands away. "I'm fine. Really. I just–" she gave a sharp intake of breath and winced– "I can feel the Gerudo. Ahead. I don't know what's happened to them, but... there's a lot of pain involved."

Resha noticed how labored Zanna's breath had become, and gently took her friend's shoulder. Resha's empathetic powers were less than mediocre, but even she could feel the waves of terror radiating from the people up ahead. Touching Zanna helped amplify Resha's own ability, and allowed her to pinpoint what was happening.

"I can feel it too," Resha said suddenly. "It's almost like... they're dreaming. Rowan, can you feel it?"

Rowan nodded grimly, staring fixedly ahead.

"Wait, what's going on?" Link asked uncertainly, somewhat frustrated to be excluded.

"The Gerudo ahead," Resha explained. "They all have the illness, and all of them are trapped inside their own minds. They're barely aware of what's going on outside of them."

"They're living their worst nightmares," Zanna explained through clenched teeth, clutching Resha's arm in a death grip. Just prodding deeply enough into the emotional cloud to gather information was excruciating. She struggled to create a barrier to block out some of their pain, but it didn't help much.

Rowan's eyebrows rose. "Ah. That explains it."

"So... what are you saying? The illness traps people in their greatest fears?" Link asked.

The three Sheikah nodded. "It feels that way," Resha said.

There was a tense pause as everyone exchanged uncertain glances. The scraping and the moaning was getting closer every second.

"All right," Zanna said as authoritatively as she could manage, her face flushing with effort as she called upon every ounce of her strength. "Everyone mount your horses. We'll have to break through them." She paused, managing not to betray the intense physical and emotional pain she was receiving from the caravan of Gerudo ahead– although her teeth were grit so tightly she thought they might crack. "They're trapped in their own minds– I don't think physical force will do us any good. Resha, keep up a barrier against the disease while Rowan and I use concussion spells to knock them out of the way. We'll just have to storm through. And, Link–"

The hero looked at her expectantly.

"Keep your bow ready. I know you understand that we can't... kill them. But, if one of our lives is in danger and there's no other way..." She found that she could not continue speaking without gasping in pain, but no further description was necessary. "Just worry about Colin. We'll handle... the rest." Zanna's speech was becoming more ragged as the Gerudo slowly closed the space that was keeping them apart.

Link nodded solemnly, swinging one leg up over Epona. "Of course" he said. "I'll take care of it."

"Okay then... Let's move." Resha helped Zanna into her saddle, begging her to share a horse with Rowan so that she didn't fall, but Zanna stubbornly refused. She did agree to let Rowan lead the procession.

As they rode slowly down the road, the groaning and shuffling got louder and louder. Colin's face was very brave, but his skin was white as a sheet– and even Link looked tense. Finally a bend in the road allowed them to see the shadow of the caravan cast across the cave wall by the torchlight. It got larger and larger until–

There were no wagons– probably because the donkeys that would have pulled them had been killed. There was just a mass of nearly 100 Gerudo clambering over one another in a frenzy. Their skin seemed to be decaying on their bodies– it was tinted yellow and green and seemed to hang from their bones. Everyone of them had dark purple bruises under their eyes and many of the Gerudo were bleeding or injured. Some of them were sobbing, others were screaming but all of them pleaded for help. Blindly they groped at each other, desperately seeking relief from the nightmares they were all individually experiencing.

Rowan was so stunned by the procession that he momentarily forgot to act, so it was Zanna that fired the first concussion spell. A stream of gold shot out of her palm and knocked at least three of the Gerudo backwards. Gritting her teeth against the pain, Zanna kicked her horse into action and pressed into the gap she had created– overtaking Rowan. The others followed.

Rowan soon began firing concussion blasts from behind Zanna and Link was knocking away Gerudo who got too close to his horse by slamming them with the flat side end of his sword.

Focusing on her concussion spells was helping Zanna block out her empathy, so she soon began unleashing the full brunt of her abilities. She let out a fearsome yell and fired a particularly strong blast– a golden light shot out and hit a large and muscular Gerudo head on, sending her reeling and knocking away a group of smaller women in the process. The Gerudo pushed desperately toward Zanna's horse, clawing at her with hands, daggers, and even teeth.

"Help me! Mother! Don't leave me!" The cry distracted Zanna, and she looked down to see a teenaged girl frantically reaching for her leg. The girl's wide yellow eyes were clouded with fear, but she looked so innocent and so sorrowful that Zanna couldn't imagine cursing her. Zanna had so much sympathy for the girl and felt her terror so strongly that she suddenly had an overwhelming urge to cast a healing spell. These people needed help. She had to at least try– she couldn't let them suffer this way.

"ZANNA!" Rowan yelled, ripping his own powerful spell through the air. It hit the side of the girl's face and sent her spinning away from Zanna's horse. "What are you thinking?! Don't get yourself killed!!"

Zanna was startled. "I'm sorry!" she cried, shaking her head. Rowan was right– the only way to help these people was to find the Winged Sheikah. Empathetic pain was building up in Zanna's mind again, so she fired another concussion spell and pressed forward. They were almost to the end of the Gerudo– they had less than 12 feet to go– But unfortunately their horses were thoroughly spooked, and now they were fighting not only to keep away the Gerudo, but also to control their mounts.

"Come on!" Zanna muttered, smacking her stallion on the rump before firing another concussion spell. The shot cleared an opening to the other side of the Gerudo, and Zanna wasted no time.

Resha cried out in pain as her leg was grazed by a dagger, but the group pressed forward and had soon cleared the caravan.

"Is everyone all right?" Link cried, checking the group as they trotted steadily.

When everyone nodded or answered, Zanna pushed toward the front of the group. "All right then, let's get out of here!" she cried, taking off. Soon they were all careening down the road, racing to put as much distance between themselves and the plagued Gerudo as possible.

At first it took every ounce of Zanna's energy to stay on her horse and keep her empathy at bay, but the farther away they got the more she was able to relax. After two hours of rigorous riding, a pale blue curtain of sky was finally seen at the end of the road, and they burst through it eagerly into the glow of the early dawn.

They came to a stop, and Zanna shakily slid off her horse. Everyone was tired, but probably no one more than she. Still, there was one last thing to attend to.

"Rowan, Resha," Zanna called, beckoning for her friends to join her at the mouth of the cave. They dismounted and returned to the cave's entrance.

"We need to seal it, don't we?" Rowan asked, popping his knuckles.

Zanna nodded wanly. "It's the only way. We can only hope to the Goddesses that the first group of Gerudo we passed will think to do the same thing to the other end of the road. Otherwise..."

"The village will be in danger," Resha frowned. Zanna nodded again, and they all looked gravely at one another. Resha briefly bowed her head in prayer, at which point Zanna turned stiffly away.

"Are you all right Resha?" Rowan asked. "I heard you yell back there..."

Resha shrugged. "I'm fine. I just have a small cut on my leg. All of the horses look injured, though, so we'll have to heal them before we go on."

"I need to rest anyway," Zanna sighed. "We'll break until the sun has fully risen. But first..."

All three of them turned, stepping away so that they were equally spread apart.

"Let's just do this the easy way," Zanna said.

"Sounds good to me," Resha smirked, amused despite her exhaustion. "On the count of three?"

"On the count of three. 1... 2... 3!" There was a tremendous crash as they all released concussion spells at the same time, exploding the mountain wall in a shower of falling rocks. When the dust cleared, Zanna stepped back to admire their work.

The roadway's entrance was completely collapsed– reduced to a pile of heavy rubble. "If they hit this end, that ought to at least hold them for a little while," she muttered, wiping her hands on her coat. "I'll go ahead and put some protective spells over it just in case..."

She held up her casting hand, but Rowan gently grabbed her wrist. "Zanna," he said kindly, looking at her with a mixture of worry and pity. "Let us do it."

For a moment, Zanna felt purely offended, wondering if she really looked as exhausted as she felt. But as she looked between her two friends, both of whom were gazing at her with nothing but concern, she relented. "All right," she said, sighing. "Thank you. I'm... I'm pretty tired." She smiled thinly and Rowan and Resha returned the gesture wholeheartedly.

"Go help Link start the fire," Rowan suggested. "We'll be finished in a minute."

**oXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo**

"Who do you think could place a curse as powerful as the one we saw last night?" Resha asked thoughtfully as they all packed up the next morning.

"I don't know," Zanna frowned, fastening her horse's saddle bags. "But there's no way that those Gerudo were suffering from an ordinary disease. It has to be black magic."

"Yeah, but who's behind it?" Resha reiterated. "Who could be powerful enough to cast a curse like that? And why have we never heard of them before now?"

Zanna paused, unable to come up with an answer.

"Regardless of who or what is causing this plague, we'll put an end to it," Link said firmly. "We'll find the Winged Sheikah, like the Princess's prophecy says."

Zanna had her doubts, but said nothing. She, too, had dreamed of this strange disease... and in her dream, no Winged Sheikah had swooped down from the heavens to save Hyrule. There had been only the Goddesses– abandoning their people yet again.

**oXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo**

They rode very swiftly into Castle Town, where Link intended to immediately visit the Princess and tell her what he had seen. Unfortunately she was out and would not return until that evening, so the group left their horses at a stable and set out to visit the mysterious Fanadi.

The three Sheikah were awed and wary as Link led them through the marketplace. Rowan had never seen Castle Town, and so was nearly overwhelmed by its sheer size and diversity; Resha had only visited it once. Zanna had actually been there several times to procure documents relating to Sheikah history, but because of the large number of people she always felt slightly claustrophobic there. There were so many emotions coming from so many different directions– she could scarcely keep up with them all.

"Down here," Link said, guiding them down a road that was small enough to be an alley. He led them to a doorway with a canvas awning above it, and then paused. "This is it," he said. "Just remember that I was always doubtful that Fanadi would be the one."

"Well, we'll never know until we try, will we?" Zanna asked stubbornly.

Link smiled at her certainty and opened the door. "After you, then."

The inside of Fanadi's shop was very small and dim, with faded colored scarves hanging from the ceiling. No attempts had been made to make the room feel more domestic– the walls and floor were all comprised of bare stone and the only light came from metal torches. In the center, sitting proudly upon a stack of luxurious rugs, was a very large woman with a very large hairdo. Zanna could only presume this was Fanadi herself.

Sure enough, the woman's forehead was tattooed with an Old Sheikah symbol, and her eyes were bright red. Zanna smiled widely.

"Oooooh, the herooo has returned, I see," Fanadi said in a bizarre, mystical voice. Her face fell, however, when all three of the Sheikah had entered. Her expression immediately changed to one of terror. There was a long, tense silence as Fanadi stared at them as though they were the walking dead, and then she dropped her forehead into her hands and sobbed. "You've come for revenge, haven't you?"

The travelers exchanged bewildered glances, but Zanna's eyes were narrowed upon Fanadi, brow furrowed as she attempted to pinpoint the cause of the guilt that was coming off of the woman in waves.

Rowan was the first to shake off his alarm. He slowly approached the weeping Sheikah, hands raised in an innocent gesture. "No, we're certainly not–"

"Yes," Zanna interjected suddenly, pulling Rowan back behind her and peering down at the distressed woman. "We are here to punish you for your dishonesty," she said icily. "Reclaim your honor by confessing, and we will show you what little mercy we still possess."

"Zanna, what are you doing?" Rowan whispered, but Resha elbowed him hard in the stomach, her body tense as she kept her eyes on Zanna. Zanna, in return, glanced at them over her shoulder and did her best impression of Cedra– a look that said "play along or you won't live long enough to regret it!"

Fanadi had begun to shake. "I'm s-sorry," she stuttered. She closed her eyes, and there was a bright flash of light accompanied by a loud pop. When it faded, Fanadi's ears were no longer as sharply pointed as they had been, and her red eyes– a genetic trait that occurred exclusively in the Yerlli tribe– had turned to a murky hazel. The Sheikah tattoo on her forehead also disappeared, and the woman looked instantly cheaper– even pathetic– amongst her dusty scarves and the worthless glass orb she was passing off as a crystal ball.

"She would have wanted me to do it," Fanadi said quietly, taking Zanna's hand in desperation. "I was the only one who visited her and she had no family, I–"

"Quiet," Zanna chastised, shaking off the woman's grip.

"Zanna..." Link said warily, but Zanna pretended not to hear him.

"I didn't ask you for your reasons," she said brusquely. "Confess your actions. Leave nothing out– we'll know if you lie to us, Fortuneteller."

For a brief moment Fanadi looked so astonished and miserable that it appeared she might not have the physical ability to speak, but then– slowly– she rose and retrieved a small jar from the corner of the room. It was beautifully painted, and bore the Yerlli crest. Fanadi handled it tenderly, almost reverently, and gently placed it on the table between Zanna and herself. She remained standing.

"This is the real Yerlli Fanadi. She died more than 30 years ago." Her voice had dropped almost to a whisper, and she was trembling.

"Who are you?" Zanna asked.

"My name is Cass. I have no surname," she whimpered, looking at each of the Sheikah's faces as if begging for mercy. "I didn't do anything wrong," she insisted. "Not really– I loved the old woman, I swear I did nothing malicious–"

"Tell me how you came to impersonate her. Start from the beginning," Zanna said. Her voice was cool, but her steady gaze was full of fire. Cass seemed to shrink a little at the sight of it. She took a shuddering breath.

"I was born in Castle Town and raised in an orphanage funded by the temple," she said softly, the words tumbling out as if they were automatic. "Fanadi was an old woman even then, but she was very independent." Cass smiled wistfully. "She worked here, in this very shop, as a healer... and sometimes as a historian. She could identify tomes and artifacts better than anyone in the city, as was the custom of her–" she glanced suddenly at the three Sheikah– "of your people.

"I worked for her my entire childhood. I swept, dusted her library, comforted the sick. But mostly I just kept her company. Fanadi was the last of her kind, or so I thought. She had no children, no husband– she was all alone, just like I was." Cass looked pleadingly at Zanna. "I loved her, truly. We were family. When she died, I was devastated–" she slammed her fist against the table, to make Zanna look at her face– "I _was_!"

Her eyes darkened when Zanna remained completely unperturbed by the outburst. With an edge to her voice, Cass added: "But I was also out of a job. I hated the orphanage where I lived, and I was already 16– nearly old enough to leave it for good. I knew Fanadi's shop and all of her possessions would go to the state if no family members could be located. So, I thought..." She trailed off, and looked up at Zanna's burning gaze.

"Don't you judge me," Cass said with sudden venom. "How could you possibly understand what it was like to have nothing– _nothing_ in the world except for this kindly old lady? I was desperate. I had no skills, no means of educating myself. I was facing a life of poverty. Very few people born into my situation escape that fate, but I did! I did... because I was willing to get my hands dirty and grab the opportunity in front of me. Using the elementary sorcery Fanadi had taught me over the years, I disguised myself as a Sheikah of the Yerlli tribe and claimed to be Fanadi's great niece. I even took her name, telling people that my mother had named me after her favorite aunt. With noone to dispute the claim, Fanadi's estate was left to me."

Zanna's expression crumpled into one of disappointment, and she dropped her inquisitor facade. "And then," she said hollowly, "You used the magic tricks Fanadi had shown you, and the mysterious allure of the Sheikah to convince people you were some sort of psychic. And that's how you've been making your living all these years."

"That's right," Cass said, puffing up like an owl. "That's exactly how I've made my living. And Fanadi wouldn't have begrudged me a dime. She loved me. She would have wanted me to prosper." Cass spoke loudly, but with a doubtful expression that betrayed the distress she felt.

Zanna looked at the woman with genuine grief. "Don't you realize how perverse your actions are? What you do shames Fanadi's memory– if you truly loved her, you would see that."

Zanna's words had been so soft they were scarcely audible, but Cass crumbled as though she'd been struck. "I know," she whispered, shaking her head miserably. "Part of me knows it's wrong. But I'm old and stuck in my ways now. Have you no compassion for me? I wish every day that I had found another way in the beginning. But I had no skills, no way to earn money except for selling Fanadi's library, and when that ran out..."

Zanna's head snapped up, and her eyes widened. "What did you say?" she asked slowly, her heart stopping.

Spotting the trouble instantly, Rowan laid a hand on her shoulder. "Don't, Zanna. Let it go."

Zanna just shrugged him off, advancing on Cass like a dazed sleepwalker. "She was a Sheikah historian... and you sold her library?"

Cass looked genuinely confused. "Of course! I can't read– how could I possibly have appreciated the books?"

"You sold _all_ of them?" Zanna cried in distress, putting both her hands on Cass's shoulders. "Please tell me you sold the collection as a whole and not in pieces."

"I sold them to whoever would take them– I told you, I can't read!" Cass exclaimed. "There were many booksellers who were willing to pay up to five or ten rupees per book, even though most of them were just old family trees. I had no use for them, I tell you, and I had to put food on the table somehow."

"You... sold an entire library of genealogy..." Zanna said faintly, feeling light-headed.

She had spent years collecting pieces of her people's lineage and stitching the scraps together one by one. Here, in Castle Town, had been an entire library of complete family trees– bound into entire books!– and they had been pawned by a Hylian con artist who was too ignorant to realize that the books could have been sold to the right antiques dealer for thousands of rupees a piece. Even a seven-book set of Sheikah genealogy would have been the largest collection of its kind... and it would have been valuable beyond measure, in more ways than one.

"My gods, you have no idea what you've done, do you?" Zanna asked in a quiet voice, staring at Cass in amazement. "You destroyed her entire life's work and you don't feel a shred of remorse."

Her eyes narrowed and she raised her voice. "But I can feel your shame... and what you did, you did out of greed. No matter what lies you tell yourself, you knew how important those books were to her and you sold them anyway, because you were lazy. You sold them even knowing they would only make you– how much was it? Did you even make 350 rupees?" Zanna shook her head, staring at the woman in wonder. "Even now you only care because you're afraid I'll punish you for it!" she exclaimed. "Well, your fear is misplaced. I wouldn't waste a single moment of my time trying to teach a lesson to such an ignorant cow!" She turned on heel, shoving her companions out of her way and storming out of the shop, slamming the door behind her.

She couldn't believe it. _Oh, Goddesses, _she thought, her heart burning with fury. _You're just playing games now. You're seeing how far you can twist the dagger in my back... And laughing about it, no doubt! _Zanna had never heard anything like it. An entire library sold for a pittance! A foolish woman who couldn't cast a decent spell if her life depended on it, pretending to be a Sheikah sorcerer just to turn a rupee? Zanna was heartsick.

_All these years_, she thought miserably, _and it hasn't gotten any easier to accept. We're dying out. It's a terrible joke! And the Hylians are cheering us on._

Link looked apologetically at Cass, who was white and shaking. "I'm sorry..." he said awkwardly, not entirely sure how to make amends.

Rowan carefully picked up the woman's crystal ball, which had rolled onto the floor when she slammed her fist on the table. "Our friend is troubled lately. Please know that we don't share her feelings– what you did with your private library is absolutely none of our business," he said respectfully, gently placing the orb back onto its stand.

Cass nodded numbly. "I didn't know it was so important..." she said. "Could those old books really have meant so much to Fanadi?"

Resha snorted and turned her back to them, crossing her arms over her chest in displeasure.

Rowan nodded slowly, his eyes sympathetic. "Our friend seems to believe that it would have been a very unique collection, had it survived. But you aren't a Sheikah, let alone a historian– you couldn't have possibly known what you were looking at. I hope you can forgive our intrusion and our rudeness," Rowan said.

"A unique collection?" Cass sniffed, still in shock. "Do you mean it was actually valuable? If I'd have thought that, perhaps I wouldn't have sold it so quickly..."

Rowan and Resha exchanged incredulous glances. "I don't know," Rowan said uncomfortably. "And we have to leave. I know it's not much of an apology, but I'll cast a protective spell on your home before I go– it's the only gift I can offer. I hope it's at least some compensation for the trouble we've caused."

"No," Cass said suddenly, and all four of her visitors looked up in surprise. After a moment of Rowan's flustered attempts to respond, Cass picked up the jar of Fanadi's ashes and carefully placed them in Rowan's hands. "Do this for me instead," she said softly. "Please give her a proper memorial, as well as you can. Lay her to rest the way your people would have done it. I... I would feel much better if you did. She deserves at least that much."

"Of course," Rowan said solemnly. "I will take the remains of Yerlli Fanadi to my village, and scatter her ashes in our burial grounds. You have my word."

"Thank you," Cass said with a watery smile. She studied him for a long moment, her eyes flickering over his scarf and the large symbol on his tunic. For a moment she appeared so conflicted that it seemed she might break down crying again. Instead, she just drew herself up and lowered her gaze in resignation. "Please... get out of my shop."

They obliged, filing out one by one. As they closed the door behind them, there was a loud pop and a flash of light as "Cass" once again became "Fanadi."

**oXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo**

"Zanna! Zanna!" Resha cried, jogging to catch up with the other Shiekah, who was marching down the street without a clue where she was headed. Link, Rowan, and Colin were close behind.

When she caught up, Resha grabbed Zanna by the shoulders and slammed her against the wall. "What the hell were you thinking?" she asked, glaring as if she could bore holes into Zanna's forehead.

"Resha, take it easy!" Rowan cried. "Let's all just calm down."

"Calm down! Yes, let's talk about that!" Resha exclaimed, dropping Zanna with a loud thump. "Let's talk about calming down, as opposed to barging in on some stranger and tearing her apart bit by bit!"

"You heard what she said!" Zanna replied, her face still bearing evidence of the distress the meeting had caused her. "What Cass did is unforgivable. My Gods, I've never heard of such a library– it would have been the most complete record of our people in all of Hyrule!"

"You don't think I was upset by her foolishness?" Resha asked, throwing up her hands. "Of course I was! But you should have controlled yourself– she was helpless. We don't need that kind of attention!"

"Bickering is not going to solve anything," Link said in annoyance, but his voice was totally ignored by everyone except Rowan, who nodded vigorously and said "_Thank_ you!"

"I am not going to idly sit by while all traces of our culture are destroyed. I just can't accept that– we have to leave something behind so that people know we were here!" Zanna insisted, her voice cracking as she forced the painful words out of her mouth.

"Zanna," Rowan scolded softly. "Please stop behaving so childishly"

Zanna looked as though she'd been physically struck. "Childishly?" she asked, shocked.

"Yes. It's unfortunate that this library– which, by the way, we have never seen and have no way of ever proving that it existed– may have been lost due to that woman's ignorance. But you of all people should have known better than to treat her with the self-righteous cruelty that you hate so much in other people."

"I wasn't self-righteous..." Zanna protested weakly, looking suddenly guilty. "What she did was–"

"Ignorant," Rowan said. "And maybe, if you were correct about her, a little selfish. But that's _all_. I'm pretty sure she didn't intentionally cripple your efforts to single-handedly preserve the Sheikahn race. You barged into her shop and assaulted her! You know better than to treat people that way."

When Zanna looked stricken, Link said: "Zanna, you did call her a cow."

Zanna's shoulders slumped. "Din's fire..." she sighed, clearly defeated. She rubbed her casting hand, which was aching horribly. "Cedra would kill me if she knew I'd yelled at a stranger." Her expression became one of distress as the mantle of regret settled upon her. "I'm sorry I lost my temper... that must have been very awkward for all of you," she apologized, lowering her eyes. She turned and stared thoughtfully in the direction of Madame Fanadi's shop. "I should apologize."

"No, I don't think so," Link said, shaking his head. "Rowan patched things up pretty well. I think we should just leave her in peace."

Zanna nodded numbly, the weight of the last 24 hours finally settling upon her. She studied her companions remorsefully. "I shouldn't have let something so irrelevant take precedence over finding the Winged Sheikah and curing this plague. I'm sorry."

"We forgive you," Rowan said, putting his arm around Zanna. "Right?" he asked, nudging Resha with his elbow. She folded her arms stubbornly, watching a vendor wheel past them with a cart of dried flowers. Zanna made note of it and promised herself to come back and get some for Helyn before they left... which would be soon, it seemed.

"There's nothing to forgive," Resha said stiffly, after a long pause. "Don't do it again– your temper is going to get you killed."

Zanna smiled blackly. "Resha is telling me I have a temper. Now I know I have problems."

"Don't push it, Zanna," Resha said, her eyes narrowing, and Rowan burst out laughing.

Zanna immediately recoiled, lightly shoving him away from her. "Not so loud," she winced as Rowan's laughter rang right in her ear. "Trying to keep the whole city's emotions out of my brain is giving me a horrible headache. I need to get out of this crowd..."

"We could go back to the castle, couldn't we?" Colin piped up, causing everyone to turn and stare. He was so quiet, it was easy to forget he had a mind of his own. "I mean, if you want to rest. We can just wait for the princess there."

Link nodded. "I think that's a good idea, Colin. We could all use a break.." He grinned at the three Sheikah. "Have any of you been to the palace before?"

"What do you think?" Resha snapped testily.

"Lighten up, Resha," Zanna laughed, slinging an arm around her friend and giving her a little shake. "I said I was sorry, let's just–" She trailed off suddenly, eyes widening. Something bad was about to happen... a threat was rippling through the emotions clouding the market, and it was racing in their direction from both sides of the street.

Rowan's head whipped around in alarm. "What is it?" he asked. Link, too, was glancing around the cobbled street, trying to see the cause of Zanna's surprise.

She opened her mouth to speak, but it was too late. A group of eight armored guards rounded the corner, and four more came up from behind the group, effectively trapping them.

"Zanna Impree?" one of the guards asked, looking between the three Sheikah.

"Impree Zanna," she corrected, stepping out in front of her companions to shield them from the soldiers. The last thing she wanted was for Rowan or Resha– or worse, Link– to get themselves in trouble trying to protect her.

"My sincere apologies," the guard muttered sarcastically. "Either way, we are placing you under arrest by order of the Princess of Hyrule."

"What?" Link exclaimed, reaching out to stop the guard's approach. "That's ridiculous! This woman has been summoned by the princess. She's my guide– I brought her here by royal decree!"

"I'm sorry, Hero," the guard said, looking genuinely regretful. "But these are my orders. I'm sure you can take it up with the princess."

"And I will," Link replied heatedly. He looked at Zanna. "I have no idea what's going on, but I promise I will fix this immediately. You'll be out by sundown– I swear it."

Zanna was too exhausted to be afraid. "Well, don't rush on my account," she muttered dryly, a crooked smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. "It's extremely flattering to be wanted by someone as important as the Princess of Hyrule."

"Men, tie her up!" the guard ordered, and Zanna found her hands being bound behind her back.

"Are you sure there's nothing you can do?" Resha asked Link anxiously. "We can't let them take her!"

"No harm will come to her in the castle prison. I'm going to go find Zelda right now and figure out what the hell is going on," Link said.

"Don't worry, Resha, I'll be okay," Zanna said, nodding reassuringly to her companions as the guards began pulling her away. "Just behave yourselves and don't do anything stupid while I'm gone!"

_It's really kind of funny_, she thought as she walked calmly through the unfamiliar street, bowing her head benignly as she was shepherded toward a prison cell in handcuffs. _I of all people should have expected a betrayal._ But she'd slipped– she let her guard down for just a moment and the Goddesses had trapped her between their fingertips again. _Well, just keep it coming!_ _I can't find your Winged Sheikah if I'm in jail, and your prophecy will be for nothing,_ Zanna taunted mentally, glaring defiantly up into the sky.

Not surprisingly, the Goddesses did not answer.


	5. Reflection

**Triforce of the Gods**

**Chapter Five: Reflection**

"_Forgotten child... restore balance to our land..."_

Zanna awoke with a start, her heart thumping erratically in her chest. When she realized she'd been dreaming again, she sighed and let her head fall back onto the mat, rubbing her eyes wearily. She'd been in this prison cell for a week, and had yet to sleep more than two hours consecutively. Every time she blinked there was something waiting for her in the darkness. Zanna wondered if the solitude had anything to do with it.

She did not know what to think about the fact that Link had not liberated her "by sundown," as had been his promise. She didn't know what to think about the fact that she was in one of the isolated cells with nothing but a narrow slot in the door for sliding in food. It had been seven days since she'd seen anything but the hand of another living creature, and even that was shielded by heavy gauntlets. Her world consisted of metal and grime.

Needless to say, she would have given just about anything to have a bath.

But she was not afforded such luxuries. The highlight of her day was the swinging of the little slot on the floor, and the consequent arrival of her daily rations: a foul-smelling tankard of water and a piece of bread. Two days ago there had even been a small piece of cheese. She had no idea who to thank for that little miracle, but it did certainly did not lessen her gratitude.

Because of the brevity of these occurrences, however, and because she was unable to sleep for any extended period of time... Zanna had no choice but to occupy the long hours by sitting and thinking.

She thought of all kinds of things, although none of them brought her any peace. She tried to imagine her grandmother, but instantly her stomach would clench as she remembered the sick Gerudo headed toward the village. The image was quickly pushed away, and Zanna avoided it with all her might. She thought of Castle Town– of all the people bustling outside the walls of her cell. She even tuned into them sometimes, poking around and feeling this emotion or that. None of it was very interesting: lust, boredom, longing, infatuation, greed. Shallow, tedious feelings that tended to give her a headache.

Inevitably, thinking about Castle Town lead her to think of Fanadi, and of the way Zanna had behaved. She felt ashamed of herself. It was uncharacteristic of her to be unkind– and with so many hours to imagine the scenario from all sides, she came to realize that she had, in fact, been fairly unkind. Particularly considering she had been an uninvited guest in Fanadi's shop. It was strange, though... Rowan had been right. Something about the fact that the woman had unknowingly hindered Zanna's efforts to preserve Sheikahn history had filled her with such... loathing. She'd been feeling a lot of that lately– it prowled the shadows of her mind, overtaking her dreams and quietly stalking her thoughts while she was awake.

Zanna had been bitter for a long time, but she'd always been in control of the emotion. Lately, she felt something feral stirring deep within her– something dangerous and inhuman. Its slithering touch was slippery and left her feeling chilled to the bone.

It was about the fifth day of her incarceration that she began hearing the voice. At first she thought she imagined the words, her brain filling them in to fit over some emotion she was picking up from the castle occupants above her. But the voice persisted for hours on end, and soon Zanna had to accept that it was unique unto itself. It didn't seem to pose any threat– it was just there, whispering soothing thoughts. It told her she would escape her cell, and that she would cherish her freedom with a new understanding of the world and her place in it.

Oddly enough, she didn't feel particularly upset about the voice. Admittedly, its mere existence made her feel uneasy at times, but there was also something alluring about it... something almost seductive. And for two days, it had been her only company.

Zanna was mulling over these thoughts one afternoon when a man suddenly appeared in her cell.

"Din's fire!" she exclaimed, tumbling over backwards in a fright. She frantically backed into the wall, staring in disbelief at what had to be an apparition. In the middle of her cell, smirking confidently with his arms folded over his chest, was a tall and striking man. He almost appeared to be Gerudo, although that was quite impossible. His skin was a deep, sallow mocha and his hair was even redder than Resha's– it looked liked fire that had been spun into silk. Heavy-lidded golden eyes watched Zanna with unnerving shrewdness.

"Who are you?" she asked, astonished. "How did you get in here?"

The man's smirk became even more prominent. "It doesn't matter who I am. And I've been here all along. I came in with you." His voice was smooth and sweet– Zanna recognized it instantly.

"You're the voice," she said, eyes widening.

"Smart girl," the man replied. Zanna couldn't help but scowl as she noted that for an apparition he was pretty sarcastic. "So you've been here a week, have you?" he asked disdainfully, wrinkling his nose as he glanced about. "Why?"

Zanna finally relaxed enough to recognize that he was wearing incredibly elaborate armor, covered in spikes, bolts, and angular patterns that created a very sinister effect. Her heart did a little flip-flop in her chest. "Because I can't get out," she said finally, rolling her eyes. "What am I supposed to do, burst through the wall? Battle my way through the castle and steal a race horse to flee the country?"

The man shrugged. "If you like," he said lazily. "A little messy for my tastes, but to each her own."

Zanna snorted. "That's impossible. There are far too many guards here; it would be suicide."

"Oh, I doubt that," he murmured, idly examining the walls of her cell. "I doubt that very much." When he came to the wall Zanna was backed against, he cocked his head and looked curiously at her hands, which were dirty and even a little bloody from how often she had been wringing them as she paced her cell. "Let me see your hand," the man said, and reached out for her wrist. Zanna gasped as his palm went right through her skin.

"You really are an apparition," she said, feeling her heart sink. "I'm going mad."

The man stared at her a long time, obviously amused. "Well, I certainly hope so," he said at last, laughing. Zanna watched him in complete bewilderment as he shook his head and laughed again. "Stop staring," he chuckled, "and hold up your hand."

Zanna frowned at him, but seeing as how he was a construct of her imagination, she couldn't see how it would do any harm. She raised her casting hand, palm toward him.

He made a dismissive gesture. "Not that side– let me see the other side."

Zanna made a face, but his piercing gold eyes revealed no hint of humor. "Well, if you really want to," she shrugged and flipped her hand over. "There's nothing interesting about that side. I don't use it quite as often as I use the other side. You know, the side that actually does things," she muttered.

The man chuckled again, studying the contours of her hand with unnerving focus. He was somehow delighted by her words, though Zanna had no idea why. Which was odd, considering she was the one dreaming the whole thing up– this peculiar man wasn't even real.

"Perhaps that's your problem– you're using the wrong side," he said absently, examining her knuckles. "Hm. Very strange." He peered down at her, as if she were a rune he was trying to decipher. Slowly he pulled back, returning to the center of the cell and folding his arms over his chest again. "The Goddesses have chosen you," he said casually, his eyes running over her tunic and the Sheikah symbol it carried.

Zanna snorted. "Bullshit."

The man's eyes danced and he smirked, raising a single, perfectly arched eyebrow. "I am in complete agreement," he said. "But the good news is that what has been done cannot be undone. You can make them pay for their choice."

Zanna felt her skepticism fade into something new– a strange, icy feeling that swept through her veins like adrenaline. The monster inside of her stirred. "What do you mean?" she asked softly.

"Use the power they gave you to wreak havoc on their land," he shrugged, rubbing his chin speculatively. "Kill their priestesses, desecrate their shrines, destroy their artifacts. You're a clever girl, I'm sure you don't need me to plan it all out for you." His eyes never left hers, but he began to slowly cross back and forth in front of her. Zanna felt like she had accidentally fallen into a tiger's pit.

"I don't have the resources to do all that," she protested warily, wishing there was room to back away from the apparition.

"Oh, but you do," he said fervently, stepping close so that she had to crane her neck to look up into his catlike yellow gaze. "You have it as I had it, and a long line of valiant crusaders before me."

Zanna's head was spinning; she couldn't look away from his eyes, but his presence was making every nerve in her body crackle with energy– she felt like she was going to combust. "Crusaders?" she asked, flustered, trying to push him away but unable to because her hands went right through him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Heroes," the man said, and the word cut the silence of the cell like the snap of a whip. "Heroes who used their gift to rage against the Goddesses and their cruel tyranny. You are the heir to that lineage, Zanna. It is your turn to raise your sword to the heavens."

Zanna's heart was pounding in her ears, and she was beginning to feel as if the room was getting smaller every minute. "I don't understand you," she insisted weakly. "You're making me feel ill; I want you to leave."

"You must listen to me Zanna," he said quickly, bringing his face so close to hers that their noses may have been overlapping. "You must punish the Goddesses for their arrogance–"

"I want you to leave!" Zanna said again.

"It is your destiny to do so; to fight it would be pointless– let me help you–"

"I don't want to listen, just get out of here!" Zanna pleaded, covering her ears, but the voice was still audible.

"You are the face of evil itself; you are death; you are vengeance; you are a hero–"

"I SAID LEAVE ME ALONE!" Zanna screamed. There was a loud cracking noise and she felt some energy leave her body as if she'd cast a spell. Before the words had even completely left her mouth the man disappeared as swiftly as he'd arrived, leaving Zanna alone in the ringing quietude of her cell.

She hadn't noticed that she'd been crying, but her face was streaked with tears and her breathing was ragged. A horrible sinking feeling settled upon her, and the back of her spell casting hand was aching with a burning ferocity. Trembling, she sank uncertainly onto her mat and buried her head in her hands.

"I've gone mad," she whispered. "I've gone utterly mad."

**oXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo**

It was no surprise that Zanna's sleep was even more disturbed after her visitor. She had difficulty eating, and found herself pacing her cell, looking over her shoulder every couple of steps to make sure nothing had popped out of the walls again. She had bitten her nails down to stumps, and now her hands were bloody and sore. Every minute was excruciating– the isolation was killing her slowly.

She had spent a lot of time screaming and banging at the door– something she'd resisted the urge to do up until that point– but no matter how loudly she pleaded, cried, or swore the guards would not answer her. Perhaps no one was even there. And spells, she discovered, were useless. The room had been carefully warded against any sort of magical attack, so that even if Zanna had been crazy enough to take her apparition's advice, she couldn't act on it. Days passed, but Zanna could no longer keep track of them.

All the while her fury against the royal family was swelling. The monstrous rage would slip its head out of the murky waters of Zanna's heart at the most unexpected times, and Zanna would find herself trembling with the desire for revenge. Eventually she would remember her visitor's words and would instantly be struck with horror._ "You are the face of evil itself; you are death; you are vengeance..."_

"SHUT UP!" Zanna screamed, covering her ears to block out the memory, but the effort was in vain.

Could it be? Could she really be an instrument of evil? It broke her heart to think so. But then again, perhaps evil _was_– what had the apparition called it? Ah yes... _heroism_. Perhaps fighting against the Goddesses was a form of heroism. It could not be denied that they had betrayed their people, unleashing horrible evil into the world... Of course, to fight evil with evil didn't seem prudent. In fact, if the Goddesses wanted to unleash evil, wouldn't fighting them with evil only help them with their cause? It was pointless. How could one take even a single step that did not ultimately serve the Goddesses' great plan?

Zanna rubbed her forehead in frustration and forced the thoughts out of her mind. She was utterly confused, and she had never felt so lonely in her entire life.

As weariness overwhelmed her for the hundredth time, she laid down on her mat and tried to remember what it was like to be surrounded by people she loved. She could not convince herself that the memories were real, but the images were at least strong enough to lull her into an uneasy sleep.

**oXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo**

Pain. Ripping, cleaving pain unlike anything she had ever experienced. Tearing, clawing at her skin, pulling the hair out of her head– she could feel teeth on her flesh.

Zanna's eyes snapped open and she bolted upright, but the sensations did not stop. She gasped and shuddered as wave after wave of emotion rolled over her– terror, grief, madness, frenzy– and the pain went on and on...

She doubled over and fell onto her hands and knees, trying to scream but unable to do so. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth, and Zanna's face contorted in disgust. She summoned every ounce of her willpower and forced herself up, leaning heavily against the wall, and devoted all her strength to locating the source of the feelings. Along with the barrage of other people's emotions, Zanna was filled with her own horror because she knew that in order to feel empathy this strongly someone she loved had to be in terrible danger...

She reached out with her mind, and gave a cry of sorrow when she realized it was coming from about 25 miles away... high up... in the mountains...

The Gerudo had reached the village.

Zanna's body jerked with another wave of pain and she dropped to her knees again, but this time she did not get up. There was no point. She simply laid down and let herself be overcome.

**oXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo**

It seemed as though the pain would never ebb away, but it did. And the silence it left behind was infinitely more agonizing.

Zanna pulled her knees up to her chest and leaned against the wall, shaking. Her eyes would not focus, no matter how hard she tried to collect herself. One thought shot through her mind, over and over again: _They're all dead_.

Why hadn't she gone back to village when she realized the infected Gerudo were headed that way? Why didn't she send her grandmother a warning the second she'd stepped foot into Castle Town? Why had she left at all?

_They're all dead_.

And it was Zanna's fault.

If she hadn't been so stubborn, hadn't insisted on starting with Fanadi despite Link's protest, she would never have been arrested. Maybe they would have found the real Winged Sheikah and her village could have been spared.

_They're all dead_.

And even after the unthinkable had happened, there was still worse to come. Zanna had failed her loved ones twice over– first she had failed to protect their lives, and now she could not even protect them in death. Because if she was locked up here, who would cremate their remains? The bodies would simply freeze in the snow, and then slowly rot when spring finally reared its head. It was the ultimate dishonor.

Zanna groaned and clutched her head but she could not stop the images from coming. Their mutilated bodies left stiff and blue in the snow, with no one to tend to them, no one to give them a proper memorial. Perhaps there wasn't even enough left to cremate. Perhaps the Gerudo...

_They're all dead._

Goddesses, please let the bodies be in tact.

_They're all dead._

She wouldn't be able to bear it. The thought of Cedra or Helyn being disassembled like rag dolls, strewn across the village square, eaten alive–

Zanna let out a cry of grief and sobbed so violently she thought her body would break apart. Her heart was in tatters, and although she tried desperately to wish herself out of existence, she remained on the floor, and the sobbing would not cease.

**oXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo**

What happened over the next few days was a dreamlike blur of faces and sounds fading in and out of the darkness. Zanna's eyelids became too heavy to keep open, and her entire body ached. She was freezing, but she did not have the strength to get up and move around, so she could only lie still and wait. Eventually there was a pair of hands in the blackness, and the murmur of voices.

"How long has it been since she last ate?"

"I think this is the second day she's gone without food, Sir."

A gentle but calloused hand was placed on Zanna's forehead, and after her time in isolation it was the most wonderful feeling in the world. "She's burning up. I think we better get her out of here."

"Do you really think that's wise, Sir? The Princess–"

"I'm aware of the Princess's instructions, soldier. But if we don't get her to the medical wing I doubt she'll last much longer. The Hero would be furious if we let that happen."

"That's true, Sir."

There were arms now, shifting Zanna, pulling her upright. She could not even summon the strength to lift her head.

"It's freezing– no wonder she fell ill. She could die in here and those damn bureaucrats would still be arguing about where she belonged in the first place. All right, soldier, lift her up."

"If it's all the same, Sir... I'd rather not be seen taking her to the medical wing."

"I wasn't aware I was hired to serve your preferences. Now pick her up, soldier!"

There was a shift of gravity, and Zanna slipped back into unconsciousness.

**oXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo**

The next time her senses stirred, Zanna was surrounded by the sound of an argument. There were at least four people, all of them raising their voices and talking too fast for Zanna's sluggish mind to keep up with.

"– if you hadn't insisted on interviewing the entire council–"

"I cannot do what needs to be done on my authority alone, that would have been a truly unwise decision."

"This isn't a political frolic, this is a life. She has committed no crime!"

"I sincerely wish it were that simple, my friend."

"Please, Your Majesty, let us go. I want to take her back to our village healer– forgive me, but your doctors–"

"Your doctors couldn't treat a scraped knee."

"You show some respect, peasant!"

"Oh, stuff it already, Lyonel–"

"Please be civil. I have assigned to her the most skilled doctor in all of Hyrule. I implore you to understand that my primary concern is for my people–"

"She's one of your people– her village is in your jurisdiction."

"Your Highness, excuse my frankness but I feel this is all very unnecessary. Why are you risking devastation of your entire country for one peasant girl?"

"That's a fine way to talk about the justice system around here, you pompous, snot-nosed–"

"I will thank you not to speak to my adviser that way."

"Forgive me, Princess, but–"

"Your Majesty, if the end result is going to be the same, it doesn't seem prudent to waste so much time and effort, it's–"

"You're really despicable, you know that?"

"– essentially styling the hair of a man on his way to the chopping block–"

"She hasn't even had a trial!"

"Princess, you can't possibly take Lyonel's words seriously. The royal family is respected for its fairness–"

"And its strength! To throw away 20 generations of rule for the life of one peasant is not–"

"You just shut up!"

"Enough! I regret allowing this subject to escalate in such an improper setting. I assure you no harm will come to this woman while she is recuperating in my castle– you have my word. Once she is healed, we will discuss these grave matters in the presence of the council."

"Thank you for the visit, Your Highness..."

"Oh, I think we've woken her. Zanna? Can you hear me?"

But exhaustion was settling upon her like a blanket of snow, and the voices gradually became more and more muffled...

**oXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo**

She couldn't breathe– her nose was flattened and her face smothered by something very soft and very buoyant.

"Lyonel, you're suffocating her..."

Cold hands as smooth and rigid as bone tilted Zanna's head to the side and she felt air flow into her lungs. The hands then moved to her spine, slowly sliding her shirt up so that her back was bare.

"There it is, Your Majesty."

"You shouldn't have investigated this on your own, Lyonel– I can't express how disappointed I am."

"In my methods, perhaps, but can you deny that this was worth sacrificing propriety? These scars on her back– look at them– are they not the markings you saw in your dream? This woman is the Winged Sheikah."

"Cover her, please. She has suffered enough indignity."

"I... Of course, Your Highness."

"You must not say a word about this until she awakens."

Zanna tried to open her mouth, tried to beat back the darkness and tell the voices to leave her goddamn scars out of this... but it was no use. She couldn't even stay conscious long enough to complete the thought.

**oXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo**

When Zanna next came around, it was the first time in what felt like eons that she was aware of her arms and legs. Her eyelids were cracked, and she saw a sliver of candle light that was like watching the sun come over the mountains. Cautiously she opened one eye, wincing at the brightness of the room, and then opened the other as she adjusted.

She was in a luxurious four-poster bed, with red velvet curtains pulled back on either side. Oddly enough, she was wearing her scarf, but other than that she seemed to be clothed only in some sort of nightgown. The room itself was lit by numerous wall-mounted candles, and it was of an average size. There was a large window to the right of the bed, and Zanna could see a few stars glittering in the darkness. To her left was a small table and a brown armchair– occupied by a sleeping (and snoring) Resha.

Zanna shifted her weight and propped herself up against the headboard, shocked at the amount of effort it required. She felt shaky all over, as if she were held together by jelly. "Resha?" she called– or at least, tried to call. It came out more like a ragged, incoherent whisper. Her throat was painfully dry and rough.

Zanna swallowed and tried again. "Resha!"

The sleeping woman awoke with a snort, jumping up and nearly falling backwards over the chair. "Say wha–?" she answered groggily, and then her eyes settled on Zanna.

"Zanna! You're awake!" she cried. She kneeled by the bed and took Zanna's hand, placing a forceful kiss atop her knuckles. "You have no idea how relieved I am. Do you know where you are? How do you feel?"

Zanna blinked, trying to compute the statements. "I– yes. Do you have water?" She didn't recognize the sound of her own voice... all she heard was a miserable croaking noise.

Resha smacked herself on the forehead and leaped up, crossing to a table on the far wall. "Of course. I'm sorry-- you must be parched. Rowan managed to coax some water down your throat once or twice a day, but it was just enough to keep you alive..." She filled a metal tankard from a hardy looking pitcher and placed the glass in Zanna's hands.

Once she started drinking, Zanna found it impossible to stop. The cool, crisp water was possibly the most magnificent thing she'd ever tasted, and her body craved more of it.

"Don't drown yourself," Resha teased, but she cheerfully refilled Zanna's cup when she had finished.

After she'd managed to satiate herself, Zanna's thoughts turned to the plethora of questions that were buzzing in the back of her brain. Her thirst for information was somehow even stronger than her physical thirst had been. "How long was I in jail?" she asked eagerly. "And how long have I been here? What is this place?" Her voice was still husky from misuse, but she at least sounded like herself.

Resha sighed heavily. "You're in the castle, in the 'medical wing...' which I can't tell apart from any of the other wings, frankly." She made a face, and then her eyes filled with uncharacteristic sympathy as she studied her friend. "I'm so sorry, Zanna. You were held for just over two weeks before you fell ill, and you were in and out of consciousness for four days after that. It's been almost three weeks," Resha explained gently.

"Three weeks?" Zanna echoed. Three weeks total, four days since... She frowned. It seemed as though there should be some pain, some sensation of grief or loss... but there was nothing. She felt utterly empty.

"You can be sure we were doing everything we could to try and get you out, but they wouldn't listen– not even to Link!" Resha threw up her hands in exasperation, clearly still outraged by the situation. "I was about to gut him on the spot when he told me he wasn't sure when you'd be released, but he's fought pretty hard for you over the past couple of weeks. He's a good guy."

Zanna nodded numbly. "Yes. I'll have to thank him."

Resha's face became concerned as she watched Zanna closely. "Are you all right? Do you need to rest?"

"No!" Zanna protested, perhaps a little too fervently. "I mean, no... It's been three weeks since I could talk to another person. I'm just glad you're here," she said with a crooked smile.

"It must have been awful for you..." Resha sighed. Then, with sudden ferocity she added: "Those bastards. The nobles around here have no class. They wouldn't even fully explain why you had to be imprisoned."

"Did they say anything at all?" Zanna asked, gently setting her cup of water on the side table. "I don't have a clue– I didn't do anything wrong. Not that I'm aware of anyway," she muttered.

"The little Princess had some sort of 'vision–'" Resha said this with such disdain that Zanna had to laugh– "that you were a threat to Hyrule. Bullshit. Utter bullshit." The towering woman was on her feet now, pacing the length of the room and clenching her fists. Zanna could tell it had been awhile since Resha had had the opportunity to hit something. "You!" she exclaimed, eyes wide with disbelief. "I don't know what the hell they're thinking, but it's no good. I'm worried about you Zanna, I really am. Rowan and I don't have a clue what's going on, and we're practically prisoners here ourselves. This whole thing has been strange from the start..." Resha stopped suddenly, worriedly checking Zanna to see if her outburst had upset her. "I'm sure everything will be fine, of course," she added awkwardly.

Zanna gave a bark of laughter, which she instantly regretted on account of the fact that it sent her into a coughing fit. "Ouch! Don't make me laugh!" she sputtered, her shoulders shaking as she tried to quiet her amusement.

Resha grinned. "It's good to see that you're well. Rowan and I thought that maybe..." she trailed off uncertainly, but then just forced another smile and flopped back into her chair. "Well, I'm just glad to talk to you, that's all."

Zanna snorted. "Believe me, the feeling is mutual. I never realized what poor company I was until I had to spend two weeks alone. I don't know how you all put up with me."

"Patience," Resha smirked. "Lots and lots of patience."

"Speaking of patience, I'm about to go crazy if I don't get this scarf off of my face. Why am I wearing this, and what happened to–" Zanna's eyes widened in alarm– "My coat! Where's my coat?"

"Right here," Resha said quickly, reaching beside the chair and pulling up Zanna's wolfos-pelt coat. "The rest of your clothing was sent to the wash."

Zanna relaxed, shaking her head in relief. "Thank you, Resha– I'd go crazy if I lost that coat. Gods, I can't breathe..." She started to unwrap her scarf in frustration, but Resha reached out and grabbed her wrist.

"You might not want to do that," the Gerudo said gravely.

"Why?" Zanna chuckled in bewilderment, but the solemnity of her friend's gaze stopped her.

"They've violated your rights in a multitude of ways," Resha said heatedly. "But Rowan and I fought with all our might to keep your face hidden, on cultural grounds... not to mention the fact that if you are really some prophetic harbinger of evil, your personal identity hardly matters." She rolled her eyes, briskly adjusting the bottom of Zanna's scarf so that it was less constricting. "I know you don't care much about that tradition, but it was the only way we could show them we weren't going to let them take away your honor, you know?"

Zanna blushed, feeling almost embarrassed by how deeply her friends' efforts moved her. "Thank you, Resha," she said, stiffly but sincerely. "I really mean it– that was... well, thanks."

Resha grinned. "We love you too," she said, settling back into her chair with a sigh. "I just can't wait until this all sorts itself out and we can go home. I've had it up to here with Hylian hospitality."

The words sent a cold chill down Zanna's spine, and she remembered that Rowan and Resha had no clue what had become of the village. She swallowed, attempting to scrape together the courage to speak of her horrible discovery. "Resha..." she said slowly, her heartbeat stepping up a notch.

"Yeah?" Resha asked, concerned. "What is it, are you feeling sick again?"

"No, I'm fine," Zanna assured her. "Well, not _fine_." She opened her mouth but immediately closed it again, desperately searching Resha's face– as if begging her to understand without making Zanna say it.

"What is it?" Resha said again, this time with a note of alarm. She sat forward, her eyes flickering all over Zanna and the surrounding room, looking for some disturbance.

Zanna took a shuddering breath. "The village is gone." She lowered her eyes, waiting for an explosive reaction... but Resha just snorted and returned to her chair.

"Is that all?" she asked, trying not to laugh.

"What do you mean, is that all?" Zanna was aghast.

"Come on, Zanna, you've been asleep with a fever for days– I don't doubt that you've had some very interesting dreams." She realized that Zanna was not bending, and smiled patronizingly. "Seriously, Zan. We sent a message just a few days ago letting them know what was happening. It's still there, I promise you."

"And did you hear back from them?" Zanna shot back harshly. "Has the messenger returned?"

Resha shrugged. "Well, no, but... The hidden passage has been sealed. The journey is long."

Zanna shifted and sat up more fully, feeling the memory of the pain settle upon her like an ache in her bones– she doubted it would ever truly leave her. She locked eyes with her friend and leaned forward, although it took all of her strength to do so. "Resha, before I got sick... I _felt_ the village dying. The way I felt my parents die. The Gerudo got through the tunnel, and they found the village– I know it. Please believe me. I imagined some strange things in my cell but this, I swear to you, was as real as the conversation we're having now."

Resha paled considerably, but she remained perfectly and utterly still. "That can't be," she said softly. "Everyone in the village knows sorcery– they could easily defend themselves against the Gerudo we saw in the tunnel."

Zanna shook her head helplessly. "I don't know how it happened, Resha, but I felt it. They're truly gone..." her voice broke, but she forced herself to continue. "All of them, I think. I can't be completely sure."

For the first time Zanna could remember, Resha's eyes filled with tears, which she held back with a stoicism that almost made Zanna want to weep for her. "How could that be?" the Gerudo protested weakly, but her expression made it clear that she believed it, no matter how impossible it seemed.

It was at that moment that the door swung open with alarming violence, and a shaken Rowan appeared in the doorway. "Resha, the messenger's returned, he says–"

"I know," she interjected, turning quickly to face him. "Zanna's told me... I already know."

And then she did a thing Zanna had never, ever seen Resha do: she let Rowan put his arms around her, and she collapsed into tears.

Zanna's hollowness thickened and pressed upon her heart until she felt oppressed by the internal silence, and a bitter lump formed in the back of her throat. As she watched her friends in their grief, incapable of joining them, a single, serpentine thought wrapped itself around her mind.

_Could I really be a threat to Hyrule? Is it possible that this plague... is my fault?_

The question filled her with crippling guilt, and it suddenly seemed so indecent to watch her friends mourn that Zanna feigned exhaustion and pretended to sleep.


	6. Acceptance

**Triforce of the Gods**

**Chapter Six: Acceptance**

It had only been 3 weeks, but to Zanna it felt as if decades had passed. As she discovered, however, she was far from being the only one who felt that way. Since she had been arrested, there had been nonstop turbulence in the castle– the Hylian Council was in session from sun up to sun down, and the Princess' afternoons were solely occupied by hearing and occasionally calming the heated debate.

From what Rowan and Resha could gather, Princess Zelda had a vision when they entered Castle Town– a vision that identified Zanna as the notorious Winged Sheikah. As it turned out, Link had not been entirely honest when he'd first contracted Zanna's help. While it was true that finding the Winged Sheikah was crucial to stopping the plague threatening Hyrule, it was wasn't because the Winged Sheikah was capable of healing or preventing the disease– it was because the Winged Sheikah was causing it. Their task had really been an assassination mission.

"But don't hold that against Link," Resha had quickly added when they explained this.

"Don't entirely trust him either," Rowan interjected.

"You can trust him," Resha said defensively, sending Rowan a look that could freeze the Hells. "He's redeemed himself, believe me. He couldn't have known it would turn out like this."

Zanna wasn't entirely sure that was true, but she decided it wasn't worth debating until she could talk to Link for herself. Instead, she asked the obvious question. "But how could I be causing the plague? I've been here. I haven't even been conscious for most of the last week– how could I possibly have been maintaining a curse of that magnitude? I don't know the first thing about black magic!"

"Neither do they," Rowan said with a grimace.

"They're idiots," Resha clarified.

"None of the council has ever studied sorcery, or even heard of it except in stories. Anything is possible, as far as they're concerned. And the Princess, with all due respect, is only slightly more knowledgeable herself," Rowan said.

"_Her_ magic comes from her connection to the Goddesses, it's not the same," Resha said, rolling her eyes. "She's never actually had to study."

"I hate to say it," Rowan sighed, pushing his hair out of his eyes, "but their ideas about what's happening are mostly superstitions, even by Sheikah standards."

Resha snorted. "And that's saying something."

Zanna nodded, her brow furrowed as she processed the situation. "So they think... what? My mere existence is causing the plague?"

"Pretty much," Resha nodded. "They're not trying to save the country– they're on some stupid witch hunt, hoping that killing one person is going to take the whole issue off their hands."

The thoughtful look on Zanna's face momentarily cracked and betrayed her distress, but she reassembled herself so quickly that neither of her friends seemed to notice. "Well... how can we be sure they're not right? We've never seen anything like this curse. Maybe it is my fault," she said cautiously, making sure to keep her expression utterly neutral.

Rowan was horrified. "Zanna, don't say that!" he exclaimed, staring at her as if she had gone completely crazy. "There's no way they're right about this. If Caell were here he'd smack you for even having the thought."

Zanna grinned crookedly, trying to hide the awful dread that had settled upon her. "That's true," she conceded, wistfully studying Rowan's emerald gaze. She certainly wished Caell were here, regardless of whether or not he smacked her. He'd have known what to think about the situation, and Zanna had always been able to count on his judgement. She sighed, settling into her pillows.

"We'll get out of this," Resha said confidently, her eyes blazing as she began pacing the room again. "I promise. I'm not letting a single one of them get away with their ignorance in tact– it's high time someone taught them a lesson." She shook her head and picked up one of Zanna's books, opening it without really looking before she slammed it shut and put it back on the table again. "We'll get out of this," she repeated.

Zanna nodded. "And then what?"

Resha stopped in her tracks, and she and Rowan exchanged somber, uncertain glances.

After a long pause, Rowan smiled sadly and climbed onto the bed beside Zanna. "Everything will work out," he said, putting his arms around her. "We'll stick together."

She had to smile back, even though her heart was as heavy as lead. It was probably just denial, but at that desperate moment in time, she almost believed him.

**oXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo**

When her friends weren't keeping her company, which wasn't very often, Zanna found herself tormented by regular visits from the castle's head physician. Although a sweet, genuinely caring woman, Lady Hekelfin insisted on poking, prodding, and forcing foul-smelling potions upon Zanna at every opportunity. As one would expect from a nonmagical culture, the Hylian concept of medicine was... lacking, to say the least. No matter how many times Zanna insisted that she was feeling better and that Rowan had accelerated her recovery with a few basic healing spells, Lady Hekelfin would have none of it.

It was difficult to dodge her, because her kindness made it almost impossible to be rude to her without feeling horrible about it later. The most Zanna had been able to do was say, "I would really, _really_ appreciate it if you would leave and let me take a nap now..." and that had been on the day Lady Hekelfin tried to "bleed the infection out" by slicing up Zanna's arms.

Every morning when the good doctor stopped by, Zanna crossed her fingers under the sheets, hoping that Lady Hekelfin would declare she was well enough to leave her room... but her hope was in vain. Hekelfin insisted that Zanna at least finish out the week in bed, lest she risk a relapse.

"But I'm fine, really!" Zanna had protested when this statement was reiterated for the third time. "It's extremely important that I get back on my feet. And I can't stand being cooped up in this room all day, anyway."

Lady Hekelfin made a "tsk, tsk, tsk," noise and shook her head, reaching over Zanna to tuck the blankets around her. As she did so, a pendant slipped out of the neckline of her dress and swung almost playfully in front of Zanna's face. It was nothing more than a glass half-orb painted with an image of fire, but it had been so artfully and ornately crafted that the sight of it took Zanna's breath away. It was almost as if it was a living flame, jumping and licking at its encasement.

"That's a beautiful pendant," Zanna said, gesturing to it as Lady Hekelfin pulled away. "Does it mean anything?"

For a second the doctor seemed confused, but then she glanced down at her chest and laughed, quickly tucking the necklace away again. "Just a religious pendant," she said, placing her hand on her heart, where the amulet rested. "Can't be too careful these days. I had it blessed by the priestesses next door, but I made it myself. It's a hobby of mine."

"Really?" Zanna asked, genuinely surprised. "It's gorgeous– I've never seen anything like it." If Lady Hekelfin was as good a doctor as she was an artist, Zanna wouldn't have dreaded her visits so much.

The older woman was so flattered that she actually blushed, bashfully holding one hand to her cheek. "What a sweet thing to say. I could make you one, if you like." Zanna tried to think of a nice way to decline, but the look on her face was apparently so pained that Lady Hekelfin interpreted her answer even without words. "Not much of the religious type, eh?" she asked, smiling benignly as she organized the vials of medicine on the far table.

"Not really..." Zanna said awkwardly. With her recent doubts, it was the most she could offer, although the ensuing silence made her feel as though she should include some sort of qualifier or justification.

The Lady wiped her hands on her apron and sighed. "Well, it's not for everyone. But it brings me peace."

"That's good," Zanna said as sincerely as she could, but her stiff posture and lack of eye contact threatened to betray the bitterness below the surface.

Hekelfin nodded, turning toward Zanna and crossing her arms over her chest while she studied the girl intently. After a very long pause, she drew a breath and said, "You have some interesting scars on your back." Zanna supposed that Lady Hekelfin was using what she thought was an offhand air, but it was obvious that the woman had been wanting to broach the subject for some time.

She nodded warily. "Yes, I was attacked by a wolfos several years ago. He sliced me up pretty badly."

Lady Hekelfin appeared troubled, and Zanna noticed she was running her fingers over her amulet through the fabric of her dress. "You know, I could perform a minor operation to get rid of some of that scar tissue, if you like. You would just have a couple of thin lines, rather than, ah..." she trailed off, clearly not wanting to offend.

Zanna didn't intend to be rude, but she couldn't help the coldness that crept into her features every time someone insisted talking about her scars. "No thank you," she said curtly. "They're as much a part of me as the heart in my chest, and I wouldn't change them for the world."

For a second Zanna thought Lady Hekelfin might burst into tears, but the woman just smiled tensely and nodded with a little too much enthusiasm. "Yes, quite right. Good attitude," she said briskly. "I'll see you tomorrow then, aye?" And what that she gathered up her medical bag and veritably ran out of the room.

Zanna watched the door close behind her, utterly baffled. _Well, at least I'm not the only one going crazy around here..._

**oXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo**

Zanna had two more days of bed rest remaining, and she knew she was at her breaking point. She couldn't sleep and could barely eat– how could she work up an appetite when all she did was lay around all day? And the stillness of the stone fortress at night was positively deafening. Zanna was used to creaking boards, howling winds, and the crackle of fire. But here, as soon as the sun went down the castle became as quiet as a tomb. With the recent loss of her family, the effect made Zanna feel like she was being buried alive...

She knew it hadn't sunk in yet. She had been grief-stricken when she first realized what had happened, but the reality that there was no one in the mountains waiting for her to return... That Helyn was... gone. She couldn't comprehend it. Only 16 years old, and Helyn's life was already taken. Never, in her most morose fantasies had Zanna imagined she'd outlive her little sister. It was horrific... too horrific to accept yet. All she felt was numb and empty, like the lifeless exoskeleton of an insect left clinging to a tree.

And yet inside her hollowness there was a sterile, detached rage that scared Zanna half to death. In her emptiness she felt capable of sending out armies without a second thought, of burning whole cities and viewing the damage in numbers alone, of doing... unspeakable things, with an air of clinical practicality. Why should she care? None of it would have bothered her– she was one of the walking dead.

But she didn't _want_ to do horrible things. Surely that counted for something. Men were not punished for being capable of a crime– they were punished only for the crimes they actually committed.

All the same, Zanna agonized over Princess Zelda's apparent prophecy. How could Zanna argue with the Princess's vision when she knew in her heart that it was a legitimate possibility? When Zanna knew that she saw apparitions of treasonous red-haired heretics, and that every day she felt a little less human. What kind of convincing argument could she possibly formulate?

_Well, that's the answer, then_, Zanna thought suddenly, with startling clarity. She'd turn herself in, as soon as she was allowed out of bed. She'd tell the complete truth. The red haired apparition could go to hell, as could Zanna's own delusions of grandeur. Perhaps it really was possible to declare war on the Goddesses– and even acknowledging that fact sent a spark of exhilaration through Zanna's body– but she knew that in order to do it, she would have to become _like_ the Goddesses: cruel and inhuman. And Zanna refused give them that satisfaction.

So that was that. She would defy the Goddesses the only way she could: by ignoring them completely.

_You can put your mark on me, but you'll have to do a hell of a lot better than that if you want me to take the bait..._

**oXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo**

Zanna was never happier to be Sheikah than she was as she crept down the castle stairs, skillfully avoiding all detection by the guards as they carried out their midnight rounds. All week Zanna had been staring longingly out her window and into the courtyard below, and she figured it was about time she got a close-up view.

It was easy to become distracted by the castle's enormous halls, narrow passageways, and luxurious tapestries, but Zanna eventually managed to navigate her way through. As she slipped out the door with a stealth only attainable by the Shadow Folk, she took her first breath of fresh air in three weeks.

It was intoxicating. The courtyard was full of garden beds– barren at the moment, but soon to flourish in the warmth of spring. The central feature of the garden was an enormous fountain, which glittered in the silver light of the full moon. When the breeze stirred, Zanna could smell the fresh water and it made her smile. Everything felt clean and crisp! She was glad that she'd changed into her regular clothes, because– while there was no snow here like there was in the mountains– there was a definite chill in the air. Winter was hanging on by its fingernails.

As she scanned the walls that surrounded the area, Zanna was delighted to discover that the courtyard was very secluded. Only two windows looked down upon it, and one of them was hers...

After a moment of debate, she decided she would take the risk, and eagerly pulled off her scarf. The feeling of freedom was so great that she had to laugh, watching the long garment flutter in the wind... and her hair, with it! Zanna had been covered for so long she'd almost forgotten what her hair felt like. She'd washed it earlier that morning and tucked it under her scarf while it was still wet, so it had a soft, silky quality it didn't ordinarily possess. Darker than the surrounding shadows, her waist-length hair danced in the breeze with a wildness Zanna wished she could mimic on the inside. Somehow, just getting her mask off made her feel more like herself. She ran her fingers over her right eyelid and cheekbone, where she knew her Sheikah tattoo was, and sighed happily.

_I'm still here... I'm still Zanna... The world is not ending yet..._

Zanna heard someone clear his throat nearby, and she spun around with a gasp. Link was standing in the courtyard, about eight feet to her right, holding his hands up innocently to show that he'd not intended to startle her. Feeling instantly flustered, Zanna fumbled frantically to find the end of her scarf so that she could cover herself again, but Link shook his head.

"Don't," he implored, taking a few steps toward her. "I mean, I've gotten a good look for the second time now. You might as well just leave it." He smiled, and Zanna felt her face flush.

"I guess there's no point, if you've been standing there a while..." Zanna sighed, abandoning her efforts to re-wrap the scarf. She peered suspiciously at the Hero out of the corner of her eye. "Have you?" she asked, dreading the answer. "Been standing there awhile, that is."

Link grinned apologetically. "I followed you out. I was afraid one of the guards might catch you, and I'd have to intercede."

Zanna groaned, briefly covering her eyes with her hand as she felt herself blush again. "That's embarrassing," she muttered. Link laughed so loudly that Zanna had to look around to make sure no one had heard him, but she couldn't deny that it was a very nice sound. Something about it made her stomach flutter with butterflies. "What were you doing up, anyway?" she asked, absently combing her fingers through her hair. "I didn't think anyone would see me– I was being so... stealthy."

Link chuckled. "You were extremely stealthy. But they don't call me the Hero for nothing."

Zanna smirked at him. "Don't let it go to your head– they're probably just afraid of you," she said dryly. Her gaze trailed up to the sky, and she sighed. "It'll be dawn in a few hours. Are you up early, or late?

"Late," Link answered with a regretful smile, stretching and casually following her eyes heavenward. "I couldn't sleep. There just aren't enough hours in the day to think about everything that's happened recently." He sat down on the edge of the fountain, leaning back on his hands. "Mind if I keep you company?" he asked. After a brief moment of hesitation, Zanna shook her head and joined him.

They sat in silence for a moment as they both watched the clouds that rolled across the black canopy of sky. Zanna tried to collect her thoughts enough to ask Link about the things Rowan and Resha had told her earlier, but she found his presence to be almost embarrassingly distracting. She kept casting sidelong glances in his direction, her gaze drawn to the thoughtful pursing of his lips and the moonlight that illuminated his pale blue eyes. The silver tint of the night washed the color from all things, and the effect made Link look positively statuesque. Try as she might to focus on her questions, the darkness kept calling her attention to how close together they were– and how keenly she could sense his body next to hers. Zanna realized she was blushing profusely.

Lost in the racket of her thoughts, it took some time for her to notice that Link was staring at her. It was startling– not just because she hadn't expected it but because no one outside the village had ever seen her uncovered face the way Link was seeing it now. She felt more vulnerable than she liked, but something about it was also a little thrilling... her heart beat faster in her chest.

"Is something wrong?" Zanna asked, grateful that the darkness hid the color in her cheeks.

"Not at all," Link smiled lightly, his eyes trailing over the outline of her face. "Sorry– I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. It's just..." His brow furrowed while he apparently searched for the right explanation. "It's strange seeing you like this. All three of you wear your scarves so well. It suits you. Sometimes I forget that I have no idea what you all look like underneath..." He trailed off, pulling his eyes away reluctantly and looking up into the clouds again. When he looked back at Zanna, he was grinning. "But this suits you better, I think," he said, playfully tugging on the end of her hair. "You seem entirely different with your hair down. Freer, I guess. I like it."

Zanna chuckled. "I _am_ different with my hair down," she sighed, tilting her face toward the sky and taking a deep breath. "I hate those scarves."

"That's what Rowan said," Link replied. "Now that I see you without it, it doesn't surprise me."

"What's that suppose to mean?" Zanna asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing," Link said innocently, although his eyes were mischievous. "It's just that you seem a little... _wilder_ this way, to be honest. Like wearing that scarf would trap you in."

Zanna threw her head back and laughed. "Am I that obvious?" she asked, looking at him in surprise. He'd hit the nail on the head, all right. Perhaps that was the real benefit of wearing the scarf– it kept you from giving yourself away.

"Yes, definitely," he smirked. "But that's better than being overly mysterious."

She nodded and raised an eyebrow. "You're telling me."

Link shifted to sit more casually, and at an angle that faced Zanna. "Did your tattoo hurt much?" he asked, studying it curiously.

Zanna reflexively ran her fingertips over her brow bone, remembering what it had felt like to have the eye and teardrop of her people permanently engraved on her face. "What do you think?" she asked dryly.

Link nodded, looking away. "Right. Stupid question."

Zanna laughed. "No, not really. To be honest, we could probably numb the pain with a spell, but it would kind of defeat the purpose. Every Sheikah has a unique tattoo, and taking your mark is a rite of passage for us." Her dark eyes saddened as she realized her mistake, and she slowly corrected herself: "_Was_ a rite of passage." As soon as she said it she wished she hadn't... she was enjoying herself for the first time in weeks– the last thing she wanted was to think about was her family now.

Link reached out and covered her hand with his. "I'm sorry about your village," he said, and when Zanna looked up into his clear gaze, she knew that his sympathy was genuine.

She nodded, forcing a quick smile. "Thanks," she said thickly. Link didn't say anything in response– he just slowly pulled back his hand, letting his fingertips slide over her skin. The tiny gesture sent a strange prickle of energy up her arm, and the feeling of companionship it created warmed her slightly. Perhaps the grief was unavoidable, but it was nice having another person remind her that she was still a part of the living world. Zanna took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh.

After she was sure she was ready to put the topic aside, she tilted her head and examined Link's expression thoughtfully. The cheerful mood had been ruined, so broaching the subject of the last couple of weeks now seemed easier to do. "You knew we would have to kill the Winged Sheikah when we found her," Zanna said, not bothering to make it a question.

Link sighed heavily, and nodded. "Resha told you that, I assume? Yes, it's true." He looked at her apologetically. "Zelda told me to protect that information, out of fear that you wouldn't help me if you knew the truth. Believe me, I didn't like doing it that way... but I was _so certain_ that when we found the Winged Sheikah all of you would agree that he had to be killed," Link grimaced. "I thought we'd find some blatantly evil... _monster_ of a man. I didn't think..." His voice trailed off doubtfully, and when he looked at Zanna again his eyes were full of guilt.

"That it would be me?" she supplied neutrally.

Link frowned. "It's not you," he said with certainty, studying the water to his right as it cascaded from the top of the fountain and into the shimmering pool below.

"How do you know?" Zanna asked. His confidence in her was making her feel worse than if he'd said outright that he thought she was causing the plague.

Link shrugged, shifting his weight. "I know. You don't have the mark Zelda told me to look for, and besides that you're just..." He smiled, studying her with amusement. "You're not. I've seen evil– you don't fit the bill."

His smile quickly faded when Zanna looked at him as though he'd just insulted her dead mother. "What?" he asked in alarm. "What did I say?"

Zanna shook her head helplessly, afraid that if she spoke she would cry. She bowed her head for a moment, and when she looked back up at him her eyes were even darker than usual. "Everyone is just going on what they feel– no one has any evidence one way or another," she said at last, her voice thick with distress. "I'm so worried that they'll end up being right."

"No," Link said firmly, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "They're wrong, and we'll prove it. I'm completely sure."

"I'm not," Zanna sighed, vaguely remembering one of the conversations she'd heard in between her fever dreams. "What about the scars on my back?"

"I heard Lyonel was snooping around your bedside," he said with a scowl. "Someone ought to smack him with the flat side of a greatsword." Link took a deep breath and shook his head. "I don't like questioning Zelda's vision, but you lack the only thing that could identify the Winged Sheikah for sure– whatever marks you have on your back are sheer coincidence. The council is full of lazy nobles who are always looking for the easy way out– don't let them make you question yourself. We won't let them take advantage of your situation, I promise."

Zanna smiled gratefully, touched by his efforts to make her feel better... and even more touched by his use of the word "we." It took a special kind of person to jump into a stranger's battle's like that. A small part of her supposed that she should expect it from the Hero of Hyrule, but she was still impressed by his kindness. She just hoped she wouldn't disappoint him in the end.

"What's the one thing that can identify her?" Zanna asked after a pause, unable to contain her curiosity.

"I can't tell you," Link said regretfully. "But I _can_ tell you that you don't have it– that's what counts, right?" he grinned.

"I guess so," Zanna said reluctantly, her brow creasing as she watched a wispy tuft of a cloud make its way beneath the moon, gleaming and ethereal. She wanted to believe him, but if she wasn't the Winged Sheikah, then what was she? It would be nice to think her dreams and the apparition she'd seen were just figments of an over-stressed imagination. Zanna supposed it was even somewhat feasible, considering how upset she had been over the last year. Maybe it really was just a horrible coincidence.

But Zanna didn't believe in coincidences.

Her expression soured as she realized with a surge of bitterness that this– all of this– must have been terribly amusing for the Goddesses. How ironic it would be if Zanna were to die at the hands of the royal family because she was accused of having some sinister connection to the Goddesses's great destiny. It was almost inconceivable that Zanna could be significant enough to merit such attention to detail, but there was no doubt that it was a sublimely cruel and appropriate fate.

"I'm sorry I brought you here, and that I couldn't get you released like I said I would," Link said, interrupting Zanna's swirling thoughts.

He felt worse about it than he was letting on, Zanna noticed, because even though she was trying to block his emotions out she felt a surge of remorse as he spoke the words. "It's all right," she said kindly. Zanna studied his sincere expression, still feeling the waves of regret that were rolling off of him. She put a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. "Really, it's not your fault. These things happen." The words echoed strangely in the courtyard, and Zanna realized how absurd they sounded in context.

She tried not to, but she couldn't help herself– she started laughing.

"I'm sorry," she said when she saw Link's vaguely horrified expression, but it just made her laugh harder. "That just sounded so ridiculous. I mean, of course it's not your fault... but it was idiotic to say that these things usually happen."

Zanna grinned at Link, who was scowling deeply, his arms crossed over his chest. "I'm glad you think this is funny," he said stiffly, and Zanna could tell that not only did he still feel guilty– he was now embarrassed, too.

"I'm sorry," she said, rubbing his upper back as she tried to stop giggling. "I shouldn't have laughed. Honestly, don't feel badly on my account– worrying about what happened can't change the past." Zanna carefully lowered the barrier she'd been keeping between them and sent him a wave of reassurance.

"What was that?" Link asked, looking at her curiously.

He seemed alarmed, so Zanna removed her hand. "Just a little empathy," she smiled sheepishly. "I'm trying to make you feel better. Don't beat yourself up."

Link raised an eyebrow, but he couldn't keep himself from returning her smile. "Maybe you should take your own advice," he said, "and stop beating yourself up about the Council."

Zanna sighed. "I never take my own advice. I'm not a trustworthy source." After a brief pause she stood up and stretched, stifling a yawn before grinning sleepily at Link. "The circumstances aren't great, but... I'm still very glad to have met you. And I'm grateful– Resha told me that you stood up for me while I was in my cell."

Link made a dismissive gesture. "It was the least I could do."

Zanna nodded slowly, her smile becoming wistful as she savored the last moments of her freedom. Then, with nimble fingers she quickly re-wrapped her scarf, encasing herself once again in the image of an extinct people. "Good night," she said as she turned to leave.

"Goodnight," Link said. He waited until Zanna was almost to the door before calling her name. She was surprised, but she turned around and waited curiously for him to speak. "I'm glad to have met you too."

Zanna nodded, knowing he wouldn't be able to see the expression on her face. It was for the best: as she waved and disappeared back into the castle, she was beaming like an idiot.


	7. The Betrayal

**Triforce of the Gods**

**Chapter Seven: Betrayal**

Immediately after her period of recovery was over, Zanna was asked to speak to the Hylian Council. She awoke before the dawn on her first day of freedom, watching the sun climb out of its hiding place with an attentiveness she had never given it before. She tried to memorize every detail, savoring the way the light gradually swept out across the trees and awakened the birds, while the earth's creatures remained profoundly silent, shrouded in a thick white fog. The dawn was an unusual glowing red, with none of the peaceful strokes of pink and blue Zanna had been hoping to see and take comfort in. She decided that the crimson canopy was not necessarily a bad thing– perhaps it was unwise to approach this pivotal day with serenity.

And so she stood quietly in front of the barred window, her forehead cooled even through her scarf as she pressed it against the glass, and she gathered her thoughts.

Every argument, every truth, every dignity she refused to give up, Zanna arranged in a clean list of priorities in the back of her mind. More importantly however, as she watched the sun bleed away the night, Zanna meditated on the outrages she had suffered at the hands of the Goddesses... and the mute suffering they imposed upon all people, whether they knew it or not. Zanna ran through the history texts she'd memorized by now, and mentally swathed herself in the knowledge of the systematic betrayal and abandonment of her people by the royal family. A betrayal that resulted in their complete extinction, Zanna reminded herself over and over again, the icy encasement of her grief hardening with every repetition. Her rage swelled– a fierce, churning thing– and she prepared for her "meeting" with the council. Her trial.

Cedra used to say that a red sunrise indicated great bloodshed the night before... and if there had been none, then there was great bloodshed to come. Zanna thought it was hogwash, but in the eery red stillness the superstition suddenly seemed ominous.

She stood by the window until there was a knock at the door, and Resha poked her head in. "Are you ready?" the Gerudo asked gravely, her yellow eyes sharp with what Zanna hoped was not Resha's characteristic, reckless anger. It was important that the day's events were executed smoothly, and that her companions not fight for her when she ultimately accepted her fate.

Zanna nodded slowly. "Yes, I'm ready."

**oXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo**

The meeting hall was arranged to make its "visitors" feel as insignificant as possible, Zanna noted as the enormous wooden doors shut behind her and she slowly approached the council. A semi-circle of large steps ascended at the end of the rectangular room, so that the council was raised ten feet above the defendant and as one stepped nearer they felt surrounded by the cold, barren stone. Trapped.

Atop the raised platform, Princess Zelda sat in the center, with three old and sour-looking people on either side. They were all extravagantly clothed, and behind them hung an elaborate array of fine tapestries. The central panel, directly behind the Princess, revolved around a golden, three-tiered relic which Zanna identified as the Triforce in its mythically complete state. Her resolve hardened.

To the right of the council and set some distance apart was Link... although today he did not look so much like Link as he did The Hero. There was a fierceness in his sapphirine eyes that Zanna had never seen, and his posture was so rigid it seemed almost as if he was ready to spring into battle at a moment's notice. He winked at Zanna, and while she could not returned the gesture she felt grateful for it, even in her somber state.

Other than the glow of the wall torches, there was only a single shaft of sunlight coming from a window in the ceiling, creating a perfect circle on the floor directly in front of the judges. As Zanna stepped into it, Rowan and Resha joined her on either side, flanking her. She wished the Princess had not granted them entry... their presence would only make the proceedings more difficult.

Princess Zelda was a sight to behold, dressed in pink silks and minimally but expensively bejeweled. More impressive than even her tiara, her thick hair gleamed as though each individual thread was spun gold. It gave her a glow that seemed almost... sacred, somehow. Perhaps it was true– perhaps the Princess really was blessed by the Goddesses. A twisted part of Zanna genuinely hoped so.

"Impree Zanna, Impree Rowan, Impree Resha," the Princess said, smiling. "I greet you. Welcome to the meeting hall of the Hylian Council."

Rowan and Resha bowed as was customary, but Zanna remained upright, her gaze unflinching. She felt the wave of the council's shock and anger at her actions, yet the princess herself was unperturbed.

"I will not waste words," she continued gracefully. "You are here today to be examined, in response to a prophecy that I myself received upon your arrival in Castle Town."

"Describe this prophecy, Your Highness," Zanna said evenly.

There was a flurry of motion from the council, and the man on the Princess's right was especially disturbed; the rage that he felt struck Zanna in a clear and concentrated stream– he was like a lighthouse.

"You will speak to the Princess of Hyrule with the respect she is owed, _Sheikah_," he spat, making the word sound filthy and perverse. Resha clenched her fists, but Zanna immediately sent her a wave of certainty and strength– a warning that she needed to contain herself.

"It is all right, Lyonel," the Princess said, and Zanna could feel her weariness. "Impree Zanna, you are aware that nearly a month ago I had a dream in which the Goddesses warned me of a plague that would descend upon Hyrule. I was told that it could only be stopped by eliminating its cause– a threat that has been reborn to us many times, but would this time take the mantle of an entity called the Winged Sheikah. This was the extent of the knowledge imparted to me.

"With so little information, my only option was to seek out those Sheikah who remained and ask for their assistance. You responded to my entreaty, and for that you have my sincere gratitude."

Zanna nodded, feeling a flicker of regret. The Princess was, she had to admit, a good woman... her kindness and wisdom radiated so brightly that it almost blocked out the dark and swirling passions of the council. The desire to help her was a natural, almost reflexive response– not only for Zanna but everyone who entered Zelda's company. However, Zanna could not give in... not now. She had made her decision, and she refused to allow the Goddesses to dazzle her out of her resolve.

"When you entered Castle Town, however, I received a most disturbing vision– a prophecy, stronger than any I have ever had. Usually the Goddesses speak to me at night in dreams, but this was a warning so dire that I witnessed it with my own waking eyes. I saw your face, Impree Zanna, and I saw the markings on your back. Behind you was a vast shadow, and all around you my country died." Zelda's voice was as graceful and elegant as her appearance, but there was a grave certainty in her words that Zanna could not ignore. The Princess, she realized, was much, much stronger than she seemed... and her dedication to the Goddesses was as steely and uncompromising as Zanna's hatred of them.

"When I regained my senses," the Princess continued, "I went straight to the captain of the guard to declare a heightened state of security. On my way there, however, I was informed by one of my handmaidens that Link and his Sheikah guide had visited while I was out, and that they requested an audience. I knew immediately that this was no coincidence. I proceeded to the captain of the guard and issued a warrant for your immediate arrest." She sighed, studying Zanna with an expression that was difficult to read, and an emotion that was even more obscure. "You matched my description exactly. I was, I confess, badly shaken by what I had seen," Zelda finished, her words teeming with a somber distress that was lost on noone.

There was a heavily weighted silence, as all contemplated the gravity of the situation. Zanna had believed herself to be prepared for whatever was to come, but the utter specificity of the prophecy affected her deeply. She took a quivering breath, afraid of betraying her dismay.

Princess Zelda leaned back against her high-backed chair, examining Zanna with a sad, tired smile. "But once I had captured you, I learned that things were not nearly so simple as I had believed. Or hoped, really." She ran one finger across the bottom of her chin, deep in thought. "Your companions were very honorable," Zelda continued at last, with considerable warmth. "They loved you dearly, and even The Hero of Hyrule, to whom we all owe our lives, was outraged by your arrest. All three of them vehemently protested that it was impossible that you were behind the plague, and that you possessed a strong and honorable character. I see now that they were at least correct about the latter.

"I was, and remain, distraught. I felt strongly that you were the figure in my dreams, but the loyalty of your companions filled me with uncertainty. Further casting doubt on the issue was the fact that you lacked a crucial symbol in my first vision– a mark which for security's sake I will not reveal. I wondered if perhaps my prophecies warned of two different Sheikah, in which case your destruction would not be necessary. And yet, even if that were the case, I still have no doubt that the figure in my second vision– you, Impree Zanna– are _directly related _to the illness that has already begun to invade the outskirts of my country. So I am sure you can imagine I am left with a critical and disturbing question: What am I to do with you?"

If the Princess expected Zanna to make any propositions, she quickly realized that Zanna refused to indulge her. The Sheikah was as still and silent as the grave, her large dark eyes cold and empty voids as she gazed up at the Council.

Zelda sighed. "I now open this matter to discussion."

Immediately the man to her right– the notorious Lyonel that kept cropping up as a thorn in Zanna's side– sprung to his feet. "Your Majesty," he said with a twitching, humorless smile, "You know my passionate views on this matter. It is absurd to me that the Council is split on the issue– surely one life is not worth sacrificing the entire country? Let us execute her and be done with it."

Zanna felt a spike of fear from Rowan and two sudden blazes of outrage– one from Link and one from Resha... but for the moment all of them held their peace.

Lyonel was the youngest of the council and could not possibly have been older than 50. His hair was an appealing mixture of black and grey, and he had a matching goatee. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with a strong, dark brow and piercing green eyes. Under different circumstances he could have been wildly attractive– however, his personality laid waste to everything nature had given him. There was something undeniably rodent-like in the way he moved, his eyes darting about erratically as he constantly fidgeted with his hands. His words came out too quickly, and in a high tenor voice not at all proportionate to his sizeable frame. Zanna had never in her life seen a person who seemed so out of place in his body. And his insides, she realized with a little prodding, were just as revolting as his outward personality suggested.

All the same, it seemed that there were many among the Council who agreed with him.

"He is right, Your Highness," said a squat, balding man on the far left. He had soft brown eyes and cheerfully blossoming cheeks. Zanna could feel his regret. "It is not a choice that any of us would take pleasure in making–" he shot a dirty look in Lyonel's direction– "but too much is at stake."

Zelda leaned back in her chair, listening pensively to all that was said. "With no physical evidence against her? You would risk sacrificing justice, Henri?" she asked the short man in a quiet voice.

Henri's face fell. "Your Majesty, as I said, it is not ideal– in fact, it saddens me greatly. But you have already done much for justice. You have established this Council, giving your people an unprecedented amount of power and freedom. However, you remain a monarch. It is your right and, forgive me Highness, I believe it is your duty to protect your people by acting on this matter."

"If I may," said a dark man on Zelda's left, thinning and crippled by age. He suffered from rather severe cataracts, which seemed surreal to Zanna– one touch from she or Rowan could have eliminated them completely. "It seems inappropriate that we not look upon this young woman's face. In fact, it directly opposes our established proceedings. We must be able to identify her fully if we are to judge her." The irony, Zanna thought dryly. He wouldn't be able to see her even if she did take her scarf off.

"I agree, Your Majesty," Lyonel interjected immediately, entirely too eager. "This matter surely extends beyond cultural courtesy."

Zelda was thoughtlessly running her fingers across a jewel that rested upon her heart, her gaze distant as she considered the Council's words. "Yes, we must uphold the Council's regulations. Impree Zanna, please remove your scarf so that we may look upon your face."

"Your Highness–" Resha blurted out, no longer able to remain quiet. Zanna silenced her with a simple wave of her hand.

"Leave it," she whispered sharply. Rowan was startled by her tone, and studied her warily. He was beginning to realize that he didn't know what Zanna's intentions were, and she was sorry he had caught on so early. But there was nothing to be done about that now.

In complete silence, Zanna slowly unwrapped her scarf. Her raven hair spilled out in long, ebony sheets, instantly stripping her of her neutral appearance. She was now unapologetically striking– for better or for worse– her high cheekbones and defiant black gaze seeming almost severe against the snowy pallor of her skin. The Council became utterly silent, and she could feel their judgements passing over her like a cloud. Many were unsettled, one of the old men found her to be exotically attractive, and all instantly felt more threatened by her wild appearance than they had before. Zelda had a curious response– she seemed almost amused... And Link's was more curious still. Zanna felt a sudden pang from his direction, sharp and resonant. It was a sort of longing, almost like thirst, although that couldn't have been right. She wondered if he was feeling sorry for her. She hoped not.

"What is that thing marring your face?" Lyonel asked derisively, slicing through the quietude.

"It is the oldest symbol of my people," Zanna said without anger. "At one time such markings were used so that the Sheikah could identify one another while still maintaining their extreme secrecy. In the beginning, you see, the Shadow Folk did not even have names. They used this eye to symbolize their watchfulness and protection of the Royal Family. The teardrop that extends from it was added shortly after a war in which the Family brutally betrayed their guardians." She locked eyes with Zelda, carefully keeping her expression unreadable. "It was the first incident of many."

"Stories," snorted a heavily-bearded man in the middle-left, waving one dismissive hand. "Tribal lore."

"No, these are facts," Zanna countered, not raising her voice, but emphasizing the consonants in the words. She could feel Resha growing restless beside her and even Link was starting to feel angry on her behalf. "I have an entire library of official documents all bearing the royal seal, from which I have salvaged much information pertaining to the Sheikah. It is the largest collection on the topic anywhere in the country and I am scrupulously selective."

"You are a historian?" Lyonel chuckled with a sneer. "How quaint."

"Enough, Lyonel," Zelda murmured, and instantly Lyonel closed his mouth. "Impree Zanna, what do you think of the charges that have been brought against you?"

Zanna smiled grimly. "I have reason to suspect that they are all true."

There was a tremendous flurry from the Council– not just in sound and motion, but in a massive emotional wave that disoriented Zanna for a moment. Rowan was beginning to feel a sort of irritated panic and he clutched her arm tightly. "Don't be stupid Zanna!" he hissed.

Resha could not speak– she looked so angry that if she opened her mouth she might explode. And Link merely watched Zanna with silent dread, his blue eyes unreadable.

Zelda frowned, leaning forward. "This is most surprising, even to me. What are these reasons?"

"Your Highness, I have had a vision of my own." Another outburst of activity– the Princess raised her hand and it stopped. Zanna pressed on. "A male Gerudo warrior in terrible black armor visited me in my cell, and told me I was chosen to wage war on the Goddesses."

For the first time, Zelda's calm expression cracked– she even seemed to be genuinely frightened. There was a general gasp from the Council and Rowan and Resha were both panicking now.

"Outrageous!" the oldest of the Council said, jabbing a bony finger in Zanna's direction. "Treason and heresy in your own castle, Your Highness– surely this is evidence enough to condemn her!"

Zelda frowned, her conflicting emotions tangible to Zanna and to anyone who could see her face. "What did you say to this apparition in return?" she asked gravely.

"I told him that he frightened me, and ordered him to leave. That was the last I saw of him." Zanna's peaceful appearance was irking Link, she could feel it coming off him in waves. It was odd– it was almost like she was getting in his way. He felt she was obstructing him somehow...

Princess Zelda folded her gloved hands on the table, her gaze piercing Zanna with a new intensity. It was clear that the time for debate was over– Zelda would now take whatever actions were necessary. "Did the apparition say anything else?"

"No. However I have been experiencing a reoccurring vision in my dreams," Zanna said rather candidly.

That did it– the room was now so abuzz with confusion, irritation, and– above all– fear, that Zanna was beginning to feel dizzily exhilarated. She was not comfortable blinding herself to the room's emotions at such a critical moment, so she anchored herself the old fashioned way– by remembering her thirst for vengeance.

"You see, Your Highness," Zanna continued cooly, taking full advantage of the fact the Princess was now on her guard. "I had a prophecy of my own. Similar to yours, in many ways. I saw the shadow sweep across this country, and I saw the sickness it created in your people. And then I came to a mountain peak, where the Goddesses awaited me. They told me to save the children of Hyrule... and then they left. They abandoned their creatures in the hour of their greatest need."

"Lies!" the bearded man spat again, this time with a furious venom. His face was startlingly red. "She attempts to poison you, Your Highness– can you not see that?" There was a burst of agreement from the other members.

But Zelda was not listening. She had become very still, and the gaze she fixed upon Zanna had a new light behind it. The Princess was beginning to understand. "And what do you make of these visions, Impree Zanna?" she asked tersely, her voice slicing through the commotion like a knife. All became still again.

"I do not know, Princess," Zanna said simply. "All I can gather is that, for unfathomable reasons, the Goddesses have given me a task. Naturally, there is some evil trying to force me to defy that task... and worse. But I am not satisfied, Your Highness." There was an acidic edge to Zanna's voice, and she felt herself absorbing the attention of everyone in the room. She used it to her advantage, and paused for so long that when she spoke again the Councilmen were literally leaning forward in their seats.

"The Goddesses have not been kind to me, or my now-extinct race. Their cruelty toward the Sheikah is perhaps rivaled only by the cruelty of the Royal Family. I am not inclined to aid the unjust Goddesses or the hypocritical rulers of their country. Nor do I feel obliged to take orders from the ghost of a Gerudo tyrant.

"I am not consciously aware of being able to cause or cure this plague, and I will not take any further steps toward discovering the truth either way. I am not a pawn," she said with a cold ferocity, biting into the words. "If the sick come to me I will heal them if I can, but I will not participate in the large-scale fate of this country. I refuse."

There was a hateful, uncertain silence from the Council and a pregnant pause from Zanna. "I do not believe my execution will change anything for you, however I will not put up a fight. Kill me if you will, but under no circumstances will I serve you."

Her last sentence was met with thunderous silence– the Council was so shocked that none could find the words to speak. Fear and loathing were thick enough in the air that even a non-empath could sense it... Zanna was practically suffocating. "I must meditate on this," Zelda said quietly, suddenly looking much older than her years.

"Your Highness," Henri said, still so alarmed that he fumbled for the right words. "I am sorry, but this is treason of the highest degree. If you do not make a judgement I will be forced to call a vote. I cannot let this woman go free without endangering the Hylians I represent– and my conscience will not allow that."

"Nor mine!" said the oldest.

"Nor mine." The blind.

"Nor mine!" The bearded.

"Nor mine," Lyonel said, barely able to contain his glee. His eyes were shining upon Zanna as if he were a child gazing into the window of a sweet shop. "And that makes a majority. Surely we can arrest her now?"

There was a rowdy babble of consent from the Council, but before Zelda could answer their request Link was on his feet. "Your Highness, I will not stand by that decision," he said, much to the surprise of everyone in the room, except– it appeared– Princess Zelda.

"Even under these circumstances?" she asked wearily.

"Yes."

"You do realize that I now have perfectly legal reasons to hold her captive?" the Princess asked, looking at Link almost sadly.

"I... yes," he replied, slowly nodding. "I do. But I can't abide it. None of this would have ever happened if you hadn't enlisted her help, which she gladly gave without a single mention of compensation." He descended the steps now, coming to stand in front of Zanna. "If you hadn't sent me to her village, she would still be there, and perhaps her family would still be alive. She had no idea that she was coming here to be tried for crimes no one can prove. I retrieved her for you; the responsibility is partly mine. I will do whatever has to be done to protect her."

Zanna couldn't believe it. All her resolve, all her ferocity– she was thoroughly prepared to look death in the eye... and now Link was protecting her?! Even after she confessed her visions and her treasonous refusal to recognize the Royal Family? Outrageous! This simply would not do.

"I don't need your protection!" Zanna said angrily, although it was less effective because Link's back was to her.

He spun around, eyes blazing. "Will you stop already?" he whispered. "Why are you being so reckless? Let me do this for you!"

"I. Don't. Need. Your. Protection," she shot back heatedly. "I know what I'm doing!"

"She doesn't even want to be spared, Your Highness!" Lyonel said, laughing cruelly. "Can't we just be done with this?"

"Oh get over yourself, you pompous swamp rat!" Link snapped at the advisor over his shoulder.

"Unbelievable!" huffed the bearded Councilor.

"I don't care what you think you need," Link said, glaring at Zanna. "You're being protected. Deal with it."

"I say we just kill them both," rattled the oldest and apparently somewhat senile Councilor. "This is all far too exhausting. In the days of the King we would just take them out back and run them through... none of this babbling on."

"I like the sound of that," Lyonel nodded appreciatively.

"There will be no impalements so long as I'm on this Council!" the blind man barked, slamming his fist.

"Who's being impaled?!" Henri exclaimed. "I didn't agree to that!"

"All of you be silent!" cried an aged but sonorous voice, with a dry shrewdness that snapped like a whip. The Councilor farthest right stood up for the first time, and Zanna could see now that she was the only woman on the board. The fact that she had gone unnoticed until this point disturbed Zanna– not only had the woman been silent, but she hadn't given off a single emotion. Which either meant she didn't have them, (unlikely) or she was using some sort of shield (even more unlikely.) Both options were also very bad news.

Though her robes were plain black and there was nothing beautiful or colorful about her face, the grey-haired woman had a cloud of authority that was almost palpable. Her posture was rod-straight, and the many lines on her face were fixed in a grim mask of utter certainty. She was the sort of woman who appeared to never stumble; she was flawlessly self-contained.

"Did you ever stop and think," she said in a voice frosted over by scorn, "that perhaps this girl is being manipulated?" There was a shocked and humbled pause. "No. Of course you didn't," she chastised. "We are in uncharted territory, Councilors. This girl has received conflicting visions– does that not strike you as odd? What if they are illusions spun by the real culprit, so that he can use her as a distraction?" She glared at the men beside her like a school teacher watching her students flunk a test. "What if her instinct to stop, to serve no one, and take no further action is a defensive reflex? That would make her actions the true will of the Goddesses. Would you condemn her, and let the real criminal go free?"

The other Councilors were stunned into silence– even Lyonel was gaping like a fish out of water, his twitching hands momentarily at rest.

"I really don't think that's it–" Zanna started to say, but Link clamped his hand over her mouth.

"I propose," continued the old woman harshly, "that we keep her here as a guest until we can clearly determine what in the three hells is preying upon our country. We cannot be too careful– this girl may be our biggest asset to understanding and stopping this disease. If she is ultimately found guilty, then we will proceed from there."

Zelda sighed, smiling radiantly at the woman. "Well-spoken, Melinda." She leaned back in her chair with all the imperiousness she possessed and addressed the entire table. "What do you say, Councilors?"

Most of them looked away, fiddling in various ways to avoid being specifically asked to admit defeat. Henri was the first one to pipe up. "I think it is a splendid idea, Your Highness," he said with relief in his voice. "We should all thank the Goddesses for Melinda's insight– a grave error could have been made today."

There were grunts and grumbling around the table, as the men gave their consent. Even Lyonel sat down slowly, glaring at Zanna's forehead as if he wished he could make her burst into flames.

"And I agree, Henri," the Princess said briskly. "Impree Zanna, you will remain in the guest quarters until more information is gathered. Please believe me when I say that your cooperation is not unappreciated– I am profoundly grateful for the civilized dialogue you have offered." Lyonel gave a horrified gasp, but Zelda ignored him. "It is distasteful but necessary for me to warn you that any attempt to leave the castle grounds will result in your imprisonment. However, within the castle you are welcome to go wherever you please. I warmly invite you to visit the library on the third floor– I think you will find it much to your liking." She smiled, relief rolling off of her in great waves. "The Council is dismissed."

One by one they filed out of a door behind the main tapestry, many of the men glowering at Zanna over their shoulders and muttering heatedly amongst themselves. The female Councilor was the last to leave, yet she did not look at Zanna even once as she removed herself from the room– a choice that made the young Sheikah immensely uneasy. However, there were more pressing concerns.

As soon as the room was empty, Link rubbed his hand and frowned at her. "I can't believe you bit me," he grumbled.

"I can't believe you just completely took over my trial!" Zanna exclaimed, throwing her hands up in frustration.

"You have a lot to answer for, Zanna," Resha interjected sharply, her voice tight with annoyance.

Rowan opened his mouth to contribute but Zanna raised a hand to stop him. "Rowan. Resha. I will explain later. Stay out of this."

"I'm sorry I crashed your suicide party," Link said sarcastically. "I didn't realize you were _trying_ to die."

"I wasn't," Zanna snapped. "Not especially. But I was trying to get out of this mess without betraying what I know is right. You ruined that!"

"I didn't ruin it!" Link shot back, incredulous. "_Everyone_ knows how you feel– you made sure of that! But I let you do it; I said nothing. And when you were finally done incriminating yourself, I politely stepped in to try and keep your head from rolling before lunchtime. I don't understand why you wouldn't let me do even that much for you!"

"Because I have to do this on my own! My defiance means nothing if I know I'm not really at risk," Zanna said bitingly.

"Were we just in the same meeting? You _were_ at risk. Your wonderful way with words put you a heartbeat away from being executed on the spot."

"Gods, why do you even care?!" Zanna exploded, her hands reflexively balling into fists and crackling with dormant magic. "What is it to you?!"

"What is it to me? What is an innocent life to me, is that what you're asking?" he asked with blazing irony.

"You don't know I'm innocent!" Zanna insisted, prodding him forcefully in the chest and glaring up at him. "So why did you insist on defending me?"

Link held her gaze, furious and unyielding, but a long time passed as he struggled to come up with an answer. Scowling and with grit teeth, he finally said: "I don't know."

They glared at each other, both too stubborn to give in even though neither of them had anything else to say. Zanna suddenly realized how close they'd gotten: in an attempt to intimidate each other they'd unconsciously moved in until their noses were mere inches apart, eyes locked in a shared gaze that was now proving exceedingly difficult to break. Link's eyes seemed darker than Zanna remembered, nearly violet, and his closeness made every nerve ending in her body spark to attention. She could actually feel his breath on her lips...

"Well that's not really helpful," she said finally, unable to control the fact that her voice had lowered to a breathless murmur.

"No, I guess it isn't." His voice had weakened as well, and the nearness of his body made the deep sound vibrations almost palpable. They were nearly touching, and she was so _angry_ with him that the closeness made her want to either punch him in the face or kiss him senseless, she wasn't sure which. Uninvited, the latter option flashed through her mind again, sending a wash of heat over her body.

Fortunately her pride returned with a kick, and Zanna pulled back abruptly, turning her back to him so he wouldn't see the redness that had crept into her cheeks.

"I look forward to your apology," she seethed. With that, she turned on heel and proceeded to storm toward the main doors.

"Yeah and I look forward to the hells freezing over," Link muttered angrily after her. He stomped up the stairs and exited behind the tapestry, slamming the door behind him with a loud crack that echoed through the hall, causing Zanna to wheel around in frustration.

"Jerk!!" She yelled at the swinging tapestry before flinging open the double doors and bowling past the alarmed guards on the other side.

Rowan and Resha were left alone in the hall, staring blankly back at the guards who were now peeking their heads in, half-curious and half-scared.

"What the hell just happened?" Resha asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Clearly they were arguing," Rowan said automatically. "Hey– OW!" he cried as Resha punched him hard in the arm and sent him reeling. "What is your problem?!"

"Gods that felt good," she gasped, flexing her hand. "There just aren't enough things to hit around here."

"I have a feeling Zanna's going to put that statement to the test," Rowan muttered as he watched their friend disappear around the corner.

Resha nodded apprehensively. "I have a feeling you're right."

There was a loud smashing sound followed by an exclamation of, "Hey, you can't throw that!!" from the outer hall.

"Yep... you're definitely right."


	8. No Choice

**Triforce of the Gods**

**Chapter Eight: No Choice**

"You heard my reasons, Resha. I'm sorry if you don't like them but I feel strongly about this," Zanna said as sensibly as she could while jumping out of the path of a blazing orange concussion spell. She rolled onto her knees and sent a dark blue cloud toward Resha– a dazing charm, one of Zanna's specialties.

Resha leaped gracefully over the haze and charged Zanna for hand-to-hand combat. Zanna made a face and ducked; in her entire life she had never beaten Resha in a straight, no-sorcery sparring match.

"What about Rowan and I?" Resha asked. She was the epitome of grace as she effortlessly danced through her combat positions. "You're the closest thing we have to family– you're just going to go and get yourself killed without warning us?"

Zanna was panting now, doing all she could to avoid Resha's fists. "It's not– like that." She made one last great effort and swung her leg out at Resha's ankles, hoping to trip her.

It wasn't even close to being effective; Resha hopped over the attack as if she were playing a children's game. Then she kicked Zanna right in the mouth.

"Gods in hell! Resha! You're not supposed to make that kind of contact in a sparring match!" Zanna cried, cursing profusely in Old Sheikan. She was on her hands and knees, having been thrown by the force of the blow.

Resha laughed and offered her friend a hand up. They were in one of the castle's less ornate courtyards– a big open space with nothing in it except for a few flower beds on one of the far walls. Since they were forbidden to leave, they had unanimously decided to be as much of a nuisance as possible, and had taken up daily sparring matches within the castle walls.

"Need any help, Zanna?" Rowan asked from a few yards away, where he was sprawled on the grass as he awaited his turn.

"Nah, I got it," she said. Her fingertips took on a glittering teal glow, and she gently massaged the light into her jaw, wincing. "Okay, I'm sorry I didn't warn you," she said to Resha. Her nose wrinkled and she spat out the blood in her mouth. "But I was afraid you'd interfere. I'm still afraid."

Her dark eyes flickered between her friends somberly. They were both wrapped up in their scarves and wearing the traditional tunics; identical purple symbols adorned each of their chests. It hurt to see them like that... it made it seem like the village's destruction was just a bad dream and their families would miraculously appear at the castle gates, dressed just like Rowan and Resha and worried sick about where their son and daughters had been. Zanna was the only one who had opted to stop concealing herself– she couldn't bear to stay in the traditional garb. Since her guest bedroom had nothing but dresses in the bureau, she'd stolen a soft, dark blue tunic and tan leggings from one of the men's guest rooms.

"You shouldn't be afraid," Rowan said, stretching as he stood up and approached them. "We won't let you do anything stupid."

"That's the point," Zanna sighed, running her fingers along the long braid she'd swept her hair into. "You have to understand that I will die for this if I have to. I'm sick of being bullied."

"You're not being bullied," Resha exclaimed, shaking her head in exasperation. "Who do you think is bullying you? You're the one who got yourself into this mess!"

"I _am_ being bullied," Zanna insisted vehemently. She turned away and crossed her arms, looking thoughtfully up into the clouds. "I'm sick of the dreams. I'm sick of empty history books with no answers. And I am _sick_ of the Goddesses. I'll die before I let them push me around like everyone else." Her voice had become very soft, but fierce. She glanced back at her companions.

"Zanna, what are you _talking_ about?" Resha asked. "Gods, you're so melodramatic. The Goddesses are pushing people around?! I've never heard anything so stupid."

Zanna's eyes blazed and she opened her mouth to retort, but Rowan interjected. "We're not going to get ugly over this," he warned. Zanna ignored him.

"Did you ever ask yourself why the Sheikah were discarded by the royal family and left to die in the snow?" she asked Resha conversationally, as if they were merely discussing the weather. "Did you ever wonder why your people, whose empire was so powerful that Hylians shivered at the mere word 'Gerudo,' now wander the country in pathetic bands of con-artists and petty thieves?"

"Don't pick a fight with me, Zanna," Resha growled, her yellow eyes blazing dangerously. "I will win."

"I'm not picking a fight– I'm speaking the truth," Zanna insisted fearlessly. "The Goddesses enjoy watching us struggle, otherwise they wouldn't allow so much senseless suffering to exist. We wouldn't vanquish evil only to have it crop up again 100 years later. Whole races wouldn't die out for no apparent reason. If the Goddesses didn't enjoy our suffering, the world would be a drastically, _drastically_ different place. They're playing games with all of us. " She glared back at Resha, shoulders square and head held high, seeming the more threatening of the two even though she had to crane her neck to meet Resha's gaze. Resha clenched her teeth, likely using all of her strength to resist the urge to pitch Zanna across the courtyard like a rag doll. But the mere fact that she was restraining herself was evidence that she was unsettled by Zanna's words.

After a long, tense silence, Zanna swept up her canteen of water and turned to leave.

"If they're playing games with all of us, why are you taking it so personally?" Rowan asked benignly.

Zanna stopped dead in her tracks, disarmed by the unanticipated question. Slowly, she turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. "I don't know," she said loudly, but her voice sounded strangely uneven and coarse. "I guess..." But she didn't have the words to explain it, not even to herself, and trying to verbalize it made her feel as if she might cry. "I just don't know."

She shook her head and walked calmly out of the courtyard, leaving her friends to their thoughts.

**oXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo**

Zanna curled up in one of the large easy chairs in her bedroom, settling herself into the soft, cushy fabric. She traced her fingers along the worn parchment pages of the book she was cradling in her lap– a collection of old Sheikah legends. They were not like the wonderful epic poems the Hylians wrote, although the language was just as beautiful. No... the heroes never lived in these stories. The lovers never reunited. Fate demanded that the great pay for their lives in pain and blood, and nothing in the world could relieve them of that burden. These were the tales Sheikah children were told as they drifted to sleep in their cozy warm beds– it was what they dreamed about.

Very cheerful. No wonder Zanna was so screwed up.

Her door was open, but someone knocked lightly on the frame, startling Zanna out of her reverie.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything important..." Link said, hovering uncomfortably in the doorway.

Zanna shrugged. "No, not really. Come in."

Link nodded, but his approach was wary. He kept checking her face, as if he expected her to jump up and attack him at any moment. When he reached the sitting area he started to sit in the chair next to her but ultimately thought better of it and remained standing, arms folded across his chest.

He sighed. "I was watching you all spar in the courtyard earlier. I heard what you said. Look, I–"

"I forgive you," Zanna interrupted, gazing serenely up at him.

Link blinked in surprise, then scowled. "How can you be sure I'm here to apologize?"

She just stared, smiling pleasantly.

"Stop it."

"Stop what?" Zanna asked, eyes wide with innocense.

"Stop smiling like you've won– you don't know what I'm about to say," he replied. His brow furrowed as he struggled to keep his composure, and this just made Zanna grin even more. "You're infuriating," he said sourly.

"I try. Have a seat," Zanna smirked, tilting her head toward the chair next to her. Link shook his head in frustration, but he did as she asked. She watched him for a moment, not liking what she was about to say, but knowing she had to say it anyway. "You know I don't really blame you for bringing me to Castle Town, right? My presence here isn't some mistake that you made, and you don't need to protect me to make up for it. I don't hold you responsible at all, and you shouldn't hold yourself responsible either."

Link sighed, leaning back into the chair as he stared up at the ceiling. "I know that you don't blame me, but it _is_ my fault you're here. I feel badly enough that you were arrested, let alone that you're running around trying to off yourself now."

"I'm not trying to '_off myself_'," Zanna said indignantly, wrinkling her nose at the distasteful words. "I'm not trying to do anything. That's the point."

"You can't not do anything," Link said. "Nobody can. There's no such thing as neutrality."

Zanna raised an eyebrow, curiously studying his expression. "Do you really believe that?" she asked.

"I really do," he firmly replied. His eyes met hers without wavering, and she knew he was telling the truth.

Zanna shrugged. "Well, maybe you're right. I suppose I'll find out."

"It's inevitable," Link said confidently. "And I'll do everything I can to make sure you don't get yourself killed before you figure that out."

Zanna sighed heavily, glaring at him. It was Link's turn to smile impishly.

"Don't do that," she muttered.

"Not so funny when it's the other way around, eh?"

"Is this how you saved Hyrule? By annoying all the evil creatures away?" Zanna asked petulantly.

Link grinned. "You'd be surprised. A blade through the skull can be pretty irritating."

She couldn't help herself– Zanna laughed. "Actually, that doesn't surprise me at all."

Link shifted so that he was more comfortable in the chair, making the most of its size. He was in a green tunic as usual, but today he had forgone his hat. Even though his sandy blond hair was somewhat rebellious, it still seemed to frame his face as if it had some intrinsic understanding of how important it was for Link to look good. The resulting effect made him look effortlessly attractive, as if he'd simply rolled out of bed that way. Heck, he probably had. Zanna almost felt jealous.

"So, do you really have these ominous marks?" Link asked, resting his chin on his right hand and letting his ocean blue gaze wash over her.

"What marks?" Zanna asked, gently touching her fingertips to her tattoo out of reflex.

"Not that," Link said. "The ones on your back. The scars. Do they really look like wings?"

Zanna rolled her eyes. "Oh, that. No, it's just a big 'X' on my back where the wolfos got me. They don't look anything like wings at all– it's absurd how important everyone seems to think they are," she chuckled.

Link nodded, but was examining her skeptically, as if he wasn't quite convinced. "So when I asked you about the Winged Sheikah, you had no idea it might be you," he postulated.

"Of course not!" Zanna said defensively. His cynicism peeved her. Did he really think she had been lying all this time? "Honest to the Gods, no one in their right mind would look at them and think of wings," she insisted. See for yourself if you don't believe me." In a fluid motion she sat up and turned around in her seat, sliding up her tunic so that he could see the majority of her back.

He inhaled sharply. "Din's fire, Zanna..." he breathed, shocked by the severity of the scars.

Zanna felt a slight stab of embarrassment– disgusting people with your mutilations tends to be bad for self-esteem, after all. But keeping these scars was her choice, and she'd learned to live with it. "Well, I didn't say it was pretty," she muttered regretfully. "But it doesn't look like wings, does it?"

He may have shook his head, but with her back to him Zanna couldn't tell. "I don't know," he said, and it felt to Zanna that he had moved closer to her. "In a weird way, it does kind of remind me of wings."

Zanna felt something brush her left shoulder blade, and her heart leaped when she realized Link was gently tracing the scars with his fingertips. "I have some pretty bad marks, but this..." he trailed off, running his hand along the places where the raised scar tissue ran into Zanna's soft white complexion. He moved slowly and deliberately over her spine, down her right lower back, almost to her hip, then trailed back up to her right shoulder blade for the other stripe.

"I wanted to keep the scars," Zanna managed to say without stuttering, her back tingling where his fingertips blazed a line across the naked skin. "They're important to me."

"I like it," Link said softly as he finished tracing the marks. He laid his hand flat against the center of her back, where the lines crossed. "They do remind me of wings..." he murmured.

There was a flutter on her back, followed by a gentle warmth. Zanna realized slowly that it was his breath– he had pressed his lips to her skin and kissed her. She shivered, although fire raced down her spine. Before she had time to comprehend what he'd done, he pulled down her shirt and settled back in his chair, as if he'd never touched her.

Zanna wasn't sure she trusted herself to look cool and composed, but she couldn't just ignore him until he left. She slowly turned around, slinking down in the chair in hopes that the curved back of it might hide her face from him. It didn't.

"You're blushing," he said instantly, a wicked grin on his face.

"I am not," Zanna said with as much seriousness as she could manage.

"You are," Link laughed, obviously enjoying watching her squirm.

"I'm not– why should I be?" This seemed to feed, rather than silence his laughter. "Will you cut it out?" she asked edgily.

"Sorry... it's just that–" He was cut off by Zanna's fingertips on his lips. She had completely frozen, sitting up rigid in her chair as her unfocused eyes moved over something Link could not see. "What is it?" he asked quietly, but there was alarm in his voice.

"I don't believe it," Zanna whispered, slowly shaking her head. "What have they done?"

**oXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo**

"Gods in heaven!" Link exclaimed as he and Zanna jogged up to the front gates, Zanna slightly ahead.

"That doesn't even begin to cover it," Zanna said, seething.

Pressing against the gate, desperately clawing and heaving against it, was a crowd of at least two dozen wild-eyed men, women, and children. All of them were infected.

There was a crackle of red energy around them letting Zanna know they were being shielded, but this only increased her anger. To the side of the gate, just ahead of her, were Rowan, Resha, Lyonel, and Melinda. Lyonel was grinning like a cat with a canary, and Rowan was looking at Zanna apologetically.

"What in the three hells is going on?" Zanna demanded, approaching the group with long, purposeful strides.

"I'm sorry, Zanna– Lyonel tricked us. By the time we got to the city gates we had to shield them and bring them here, it would have been irresponsible not to–" Zanna raised a hand, silencing Rowan's anxious gush of words.

"You arranged this, Lyonel?" Zanna asked coldly, eying the man with unbridled contempt.

"I had the country's border patrols round them up and bring them here," he said smoothly, his voice like silk even as his hands twitched and fiddled.

"You put those soldiers at risk," Link said angrily, stepping closer to Lyonel. Lyonel was tall, but Link was taller– Lyonel shrunk back a little, his green eyes flicking nervously.

"Why did you do this?" Zanna asked. "To goad me?"

"You did say you would heal the sick, if you could," Melinda said with the utmost elegance, confidently examining the young Sheikah with a graciousness that was infuriating. "We have a limited amount of time, Ms. Impree Zanna. We must figure out what's happening to this country– and quickly. Can you heal them or not?"

Zanna glared at her. "I don't know. What if I can't? Will you kill them all?"

"Oh, I should hope it doesn't come to that," Melinda said mildly.

"You have to try, Zanna," Resha said, and her voice was strained. Zanna studied her coldly, not wanting to be petty at a time like this, but still feeling absolutely furious at her friend for helping the toadies back her into a corner.

"Will you try, Sheikah?" Melinda asked. "If you do not, I hardly need remind you that you will have lied in front of the Council– an act equal to treason. I doubt we will handle it as generously as we handled your first offense."

"I'm not afraid of the Council," Zanna snapped. "I already told you that I'm willing to die– doubting my sincerity was stupid and very well may result in your death, as well as the deaths of everyone here."

Lyonel was looking a little antsy now– it seemed it hadn't occurred to him that getting Zanna arrested would mean that no one could cure the plague victims that were now less than 15 feet away from him. "Will you attempt it, girl?" he asked skittishly.

Zanna wanted to tell him to drop dead. She wanted to tell all of them to go to hell– that she couldn't be bribed or blackmailed. But she didn't. She just looked at the suffering people on the other side of the gate, feeling their fear and their pain so strongly that if she focused on it too long she would surely be sucked in. Their faces made it even worse... they were weeping and tearing their hair, blindly knocking at one another like panicked animals. Gods help them– there was blood everywhere. They would rip themselves apart given enough time. Zanna's heart broke, and she knew she couldn't say no.

"Damn it all to hell... Of course I'll try," she muttered, but it didn't sound as nasty as she'd intended. Instead it just sounded small– weakened by the sympathy she felt for the people at the gate.

Sighing, Zanna went over to the pillar on the left side of the inner gates and began to climb.

"What are you doing?" Resha asked as Zanna reached the top.

"Well, I can't very well heal them from outside the barrier, now can I?" she asked sharply. Resha's face darkened with guilt.

Zanna just shook her head and hopped gracefully into the mass of writhing bodies below.

"Zanna!" someone cried– Link, it sounded like– but Zanna was beyond all warning. There were hands and mouths everywhere, pushing and pulling, begging for help. She could hear everything from incoherent wailing to low, rapid speech: "Please don't, please help me, I swear to the Goddesses I'll never cheat again, I'll never gamble, just don't– don't!! GODS!"

Such cries were everywhere, and their emotions pushed in on her as if she were being smothered between giant cushions. Zanna staggered and dropped to her knees, trying not to let the anguish overcome her, but she was panting with the effort– practically becoming part of the mob as she grabbed someone's arm and tried to levy herself up. The person threw her off wildly, and Zanna caught a shoe to the face. Gods! If she didn't act soon she would be trampled!

Ignoring the pain of their emotions as well as the pain of their hands and feet on her body, Zanna drew all of her focus inward. She gathered all of her energy, letting it swirl between her palms like a tiny teal star, glowing and growing with every moment. When she was sure she had collected every ounce of her strength, Zanna counted each individual with her empathy, took a deep breath, and dropped all of her shields.

The pain was immediate and breathtaking. Horrible images danced before Zanna's eyes– blood, monsters, and unspeakable acts of hatred and perversion that would surely stay with her the rest of her days. Her entire body ached as if it were being poked all over with tiny pins of red-hot metal, and all the while her energy was leaving her in a massive outpouring. She felt herself getting weaker and weaker, the pain intensifying as blackness closed in from all sides.

Then, suddenly, it stopped. The images disappeared, evaporating like phantoms in the morning light, and the stabbing pain ebbed away. There was a woman's scream, but it too faded– Zanna slowly realized it had been her own voice crying out. She opened her eyes, although the earth seemed to sway beneath her.

Grabbing the bars of the gate for support, Zanna staggered to her feet. What she saw amazed her.

They were healed– all of them. The yellow tint was gone from their skin, life had returned to their glassy eyes, and all around she could feel their mild confusion as they became aware of their surroundings. She tried to slide up her barriers again, but she didn't have the strength. She would just have to deal with sensing everyone's emotions until she could rest again.

"Where are we?" one of the men asked blearily, rubbing his eyes.

"Why, we're at the castle!" said another.

"Wenta, why is your dress so torn? My Gods, what has happened?"

Zanna felt a strange blossoming in her heart, and thus came the after-effect... the reason she hated healing spells above all kinds of sorcery.

She loved them.

Every last one of them had her full and intimate affection, as if they had been her own family. For an empath of Zanna's strength, the connection that was formed by performing a healing spell of such a magnitude was an irreversible bond. She'd looked into their souls. Zanna would love them the rest of her life, and though they probably wouldn't understand why, they'd love her right back.

Sighing, she took a few unsteady steps toward them.

"My child," said an elderly woman, taking Zanna's hands and looking warmly up into her face. "Do you need help? You're bleeding."

Zanna smiled painfully, her chest constricting at the woman's touch. She was so like Cedra... "I'm fine," Zanna said gently, patting the old woman's hand. "It's the rest of you who were not well."

There was a murmur of agreement amongst them. "Yes, we can see that," said a tall man with a mass of flaming red hair atop his head. His eyes were greener than the forest god herself. "Do you know what's happened to us? We're from Saruko, about 30 miles East of Ordona. None of us can recall how we got here."

So they couldn't remember their nightmares– it was only Zanna who would remember them. Great.

"What's your name?" Zanna asked kindly.

"Tereni," he replied. "I'm the mayor of our village." There was strength in his expression, and sincerity. These were good people– Zanna could not help but be glad she'd healed them.

"Mayor Tereni, I'm not sure how to explain this," she said uncertainly, taking a deep breath. "There's a plague spreading on the outskirts of Hyrule, and your village was infected. It's an extremely hallucinatory fever– believe it or not, you walked here from Saruko." Well, it was close enough to the truth. There was a gasp from a young woman, and a rustle of consent from several others who were frightened by the news. "You're fully recovered," Zanna assured them. "I'm a Sheikah healer, and I was able to help you. Unfortunately it's not safe for you to return to your homes until this epidemic has passed. I'll just open the gate and this man here will tell you where you might be able to find alternative lodgings closer to the city, until the border is safe again..." Zanna trailed off, gesturing for the castle guards to open the inner gates. After a quick glance at Link, who nodded, they did so, and Zanna limped over to Lyonel with a weary expression.

"I trust you have someplace for them to stay?" she asked tersely.

Lyonel was stumped, but Melinda interjected. "Yes, there is an empty warehouse nearby which can be converted to an emergency shelter for these people. Lyonel, kindly explain this to them, and let them know that we'll be handing out bread and water at the soldiers' barracks– I'll send word to the Captain."

Lyonel glared first at Melinda, then at Zanna with all the hatred he could muster before stalking off to do as he was told. Melinda smiled at Zanna with a vaguely surprised delight, as if she were staring at a dog that had just performed a trick. Zanna scowled back at her.

"Are you all right?" Link asked, taking Zanna's arm to steady her and studying her face with concern.

Zanna nodded mutely, afraid to waste any of her energy on unnecessary discussion.

"Your hand," Rowan gasped, catching sight of the bloody mess at the end of Zanna's left arm. She was still so dazed that she hadn't noticed the injury. "Gods– at least three of your fingers are broken. Let me heal it for you," Rowan offered. He bent down to attend the wound, but Zanna took a careful step back.

"Don't," she said gently but firmly. "It will be a waste. You can heal me when I'm completely finished."

"When you're completely finished?" Link echoed, his gaze snapping to Melinda with distrust. The old woman just smiled pleasantly.

Zanna's cold gaze was settled upon on Resha, who had broken out in a light sweat by now with the effort of keeping two fairly large barriers going at once. "Yes, there's more," Zanna murmured. She sighed and delicately made her way to the nearest pillar, where she sat down with a great deal of effort. "Just give me another fifteen minutes, Resha, and you can bring them up. Otherwise I don't think I'll be able to take all 50."

"50?" Link exclaimed, studying the other Sheikah in alarm. "She just healed half that many and she's a wreck. You can't tell me you're going to let her try 50 at once– they'll trample her!"

"Thanks a lot," Zanna said sarcastically.

"You know what I mean," Link replied with a worried frown, clearly upset by her lack of concern.

"There's no other option," Rowan said regretfully. "They're just outside the city walls. Everyone is in danger if she doesn't try."

"Does Zelda know about this?" Link asked, angrily rounding on Melinda.

The old woman chuckled. "Why, Hero, you know the Council was given permission to investigate this matter– you were there."

"If you knew the risk you were taking, you wouldn't have dreamed of doing this," Rowan chastised, shaking his head at the old woman. "Even as we speak I'm praying Zanna can heal the others."

Melinda feigned surprise. "But that is precisely what I am doing, young Sheikah! I too am praying she will succeed. We shall soon find out if our prayers are answered."

**oXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo**

Zanna did succeed, although she sincerely doubted that prayers had anything to do with it. The group was as big as she'd suspected– a bit bigger, even. There were 56 of them. She had thought the first time was bad, but it was nothing compared to what she saw the second time. She hoped to the Gods that she'd be able to scrub the images of these people's nightmares from her mind eventually, or she'd never sleep again.

In addition to the images, the physical pain had tripled– this time she'd almost failed because of it, so great was the distraction. And the mob was rowdier: by the time she finished Zanna's arm had been broken in several places, and her face was already blossoming with numerous bruises. She let Lyonel explain everything to the villagers– Zanna's appearance frightened some of them.

That made Zanna laugh, and she instantly regretted it. Seemed she'd broken a few ribs as well.

Luckily, Rowan was ready and waiting– as soon as she was through the gates he put all of his energy into patching her up. She was in bad shape, however, and mending the broken bones required a huge outpouring of his strength. If she'd gotten knocked around for even a few seconds longer, he might not have been able to fix her.

"Well, Sorceress, it appears you are the cure for this plague after all," Melinda purred once Zanna's major injuries had been mended. "Now we have only to determine whether or not you are the cause of it."

"If you do anything like this again, I will drag you before the Princess and request your resignation myself," Link said, with an edge to his voice that was sharp enough to split parchment.

"Do not be so brash, Hero. We have accomplished much today."

"You almost killed all of us– that is what you have accomplished," Zanna said, unable to put any real fire behind her words. She swayed unsteadily and braced herself by placing one hand on Link's arm and the other on Rowan's. Goddesses, she was tired. She'd never needed sleep this badly in her entire life. But Melinda needed to understand. "Melinda," Zanna said evenly, making steady eye contact. Her shields were shot for the day, and so she could feel every squirming emotion in the old Councilor, like dozens of worms slithering against each other. She was old, but she was conniving and very, very clever. Plotting, for sure– but what?

"You need to know that I almost failed today," Zanna said. Melinda gave a feline smile and Zanna shook her head in warning. "No games, Councilor. No traps. I'm too tired to deal with it. The second group was almost too much– they almost overcame me. The more of them there are, the more frantic they get... if I had died they would have turned on you, and you would have had to slaughter 56 innocent civilians or die yourself. In my village we would have removed an Elder instantly for such an irresponsible act– there would be no trial."

Melinda was still observing Zanna calmly, but there was a glint in her eye now, and her lips were tight. Zanna could feel some displeasure bubbling up to the surface, and she was pretty sure she didn't want to know what it was. "We will discuss this more thoroughly before the Council," Melinda said simply, and then, with a nod to Resha, Rowan and Link, she turned and gracefully removed herself to the castle. Lyonel trailed behind her, shooting Zanna a dirty look over his shoulder.

"Zanna, I'm sorry," Resha said as soon as the Councilors were out of hearing range. "Lyonel told us that a pack of Wolfos had gone mad and were prowling the city walls. Rowan and I agreed to help the soldiers destroy them, but when we got there..." she shook her head, looking to Rowan for help. He just nodded encouragingly. "Well, they were all waiting, of course. I had to throw a shield up around them to protect the city. Then our only choices were to kill them or bring them to you."

"We had to try," Rowan said gently. "But if we'd known how dangerous it would be–"

"I would have found another way," Resha said firmly. "I would never risk your life."

Zanna laid her hand on Resha's shoulder and shook her head. She was just too tired to be angry; even as she tried to be firm her voice sounded resigned. "You did what you thought was best, and it all worked out, Resha. Don't worry about it."

Resha looked at her uncertainly, guilt visible in her shining golden eyes. "I'd rather you just yell at me," she muttered, before turning stiffly and heading for the castle.

Zanna pinched the bridge of her nose, amazed that she was able to feel irritated even as tired as she was.

"She was afraid for you," Rowan sighed, watching Resha go. He put his arm around Zanna's shoulders, giving her a bittersweet smile. "We both were. But it's incredible that you succeeded. I think... deep down, we knew you could do it. That's why we brought them up. Your empathy is phenomenal, Zanna, really. Sasheh would have been proud of you today."

She shook her head, wincing at the painful memory of her instructor. It was true, Sasheh would have been ecstatic to learn that Zanna had finally cast a decent healing spell. Gods, she missed her. "Thanks, Rowan," she said with a sad smile, gently removing his arm. "I'm going to go lie down."

"Let me help you," Link said quickly.

Rowan raised an eyebrow, staring curiously at him. Link panicked and began backpedaling immediately. "Let me help you to your _room_, that is," he corrected. If Zanna didn't know any better she'd say he was blushing.

She smiled. "Thanks but no thanks. I can take care of myself."

Or at least, she hoped she could. In comparison to healing an entire village in a single afternoon, getting back to her room without tripping seemed like a minuscule task indeed. She was just afraid that no one had given that information to her body. Her joints were trembling like jelly.

Zanna was proud to make it through the first seven or eight yards without a hitch, but when the path back to the castle took an upward turn, she began to have issues. Her head was swimming with exhaustion, and her legs were lead, refusing to comply with even the simplest commands. A particularly evil rock was jutting out of the road– it caught Zanna's toe and down she went!

She was saved from landing face-first in the dirt by a pair of strong hands, hoisting her up by the back of her tunic. Link wordlessly set her on her feet and slipped his arm around her waist, steadying her so that she could walk without falling again.

"I said I don't want help," she insisted sleepily. Her lack of energy was making her feel grouchy.

"Shut up," Link replied without even taking his eyes off the path ahead.

Zanna's mouth dropped open in genuine shock. "What did you say?"

"I said shut up," he repeated evenly. His expression was neutral.

"You're lucky that sounds like such a great idea right now, or I'd slap you outright," Zanna muttered.

Link just smirked, and they made their way up to the castle in silence.


	9. The Shrine

**A/N:** So, as I mentioned in a new author's note in the first chapter, this story has recently undergone a MASSIVE overhaul. Every chapter has been edited. While the main plot is still the same, all dialogue between Zanna and Link has been rewritten, and the Fanadi scene has been changed significantly. It's not necessary that you go back and reread everything, but I would recommend skimming through the new dialogue, if you are enjoying this story! A lot has been added, and the chemistry between Zanna and Link is a lot more apparent now.

So I hope you enjoy that! As for this chapter, it may not read as smoothly as the edited sections... but editing kills my muse, so I'll leave it alone for now. xD

**Triforce of the Gods**

**Chapter Nine: The Shrine**

"Here we are..."

Zanna sighed as they reached her bedroom. At the moment, it was the most welcome sight in the world.

"Are you okay?" Link asked, tentatively removing his support to see if Zanna could stand.

"I'm fine," she insisted.

Link was skeptical, but he respected her pride by not saying as much. The second she stepped away from him her knees gave out and she went tumbling to the floor again. Link caught her by the arms and hoisted her back up, this time just sweeping an arm beneath her knees and carrying her outright.

"I don't like being carried," she complained sleepily, although she didn't have the strength to fight him. Her body needed to shut down for a few hours, and that's exactly what it was going to do– whether she was in bed or not.

"You don't like a lot of things that are good for you," Link observed, bending down and carefully setting Zanna on the bed. There was an ornately-woven antique Gerudo blanket on one of the chairs, and he shook it out before using it to cover Zanna.

Zanna's hair pooled around her like ink on the white pillows, having slipped out of its braid during the mobs. Despite the dust, she could still vaguely smell the soap she'd used that morning, and it was oddly soothing. But Zanna didn't want to sleep just yet. She called on all of her will to push back the darkness for a little while longer. "Thank you for helping me," she said sincerely, looking up at Link as he sat on the edge of the bed.

He smiled with something rather like amusement as he brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. "You don't have to thank me," he said. His hand lingered at the side of her face and he gently ran his fingertips over her right brow bone, where her tattoo started.

"I know," she smirked drowsily.

Link laughed.

"In case you don't wake up before midmorning tomorrow, I wanted to tell you that I'm leaving," he said softly, his expression becoming regretful. "Promise me you won't get yourself killed while I'm gone." He was smiling, but there was genuine concern behind his words, Zanna could feel it.

Sleep was calling to her, but the news startled Zanna enough that she was able to push it back again. "Where are you going?" she asked. She was too tired to be embarrassed by how worried she suddenly sounded.

Link's eyes became very serious, and he sat forward so that she could only see his profile. "Home, to Ordona. I sent Colin to warn my village about the plague a few days after we learned what happened in the mountains. I haven't had any word from him since then."

Zanna's eyes widened and her stomach did an odd sort of flip-flop. It was hard for her foggy brain to process the information. "The villagers today– they were closer to Ordona than the mountains. If the plague is moving in that direction..."

"I know," Link said solemnly. They locked eyes for a long time, until Zanna had to look away.

"Please be careful," she said quietly.

"I will be," he said, but his eyes were fixed upon the dancing fire of one of the torches on the wall. There was a distance in his expression that made Zanna uneasy.

"Promise me," she insisted, watching his face intently. "Promise me you'll be careful."

Link took her hand and intertwined their fingers, smiling a bit sadly as he met her eyes. "I will be careful."

Zanna stared up at him, wanting to believe it but incapable of ignoring the horrible sinking feeling in her chest. Bad things were going to happen– she could tell. Images from the plague nightmares flashed through her mind in rapid succession.

"You don't look like you believe me," Link said, raising an eyebrow.

She didn't, but she didn't want to say so. "I believe that you mean it right now," Zanna said reluctantly.

Link made a face. "You're not enjoying the feeling of worrying about someone else's reckless behavior for a change, are you?" he asked. "Maybe you'll remember that the next time you're thinking about diving into a mass of plague victims."

Zanna laughed in spite of herself, in spite of the tears that were threatening the corners of her eyes. "Maybe," she said.

After a thoughtful pause, she added, "...But I doubt it."

Link sighed and laid a gentle kiss on her forehead, unknowingly sending a flood of heat down Zanna's body. "You need to sleep," he said, but his tone of voice was warm. Zanna watched him walk toward the door, listening to the soft sound of his boots hitting the carpet. An unexplainable panic swelled in her chest and she wished she could make him stay.

"Link," she called, starting to lose the battle against her increasingly heavy eyelids. He turned around, hand on the doorknob, waiting for her to speak. "Keep your promise," she said faintly.

Link smiled. "I will. I'll see you in a couple of weeks."

Zanna trusted Link– she believed him when he said he would not intentionally do anything risky. So why was there a cold dread building up in the pit of her stomach?

Luckily, she did not have to worry about the feeling for long. The door had barely closed when darkness swooped down upon Zanna, whisking her into sleep's embrace.

**oXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo**

Time passed slowly while Link was gone, but it did pass. The fact that Zanna barely slept only served to make the days seem longer. When she wasn't hounded by the plague victim's nightmares, she was having nightmares of her own: Rowan and Resha being torn to bits by the hallucinating mob, Cedra and Helyn in a corner begging Zanna to save them, Link being chased on horseback by Zanna's red-haired apparition.

Dreamland was not a very pleasant place at the moment. In fact, it was the last place in the world Zanna wanted to be.

It was for this reason she had taken to going without sleep as long as physically possible, collapsing for a few hours, and then repeating the process all over again. Of course, this was making her grouchy and slow on her feet... and it was also making her see and hear things that shouldn't have been there. Occasionally an emotion would slip past her shield and streak a line behind her eyes, leaving a jarring impression of something Zanna didn't want to see. Other times, when she was alone, she could swear the voice was back. Not saying anything, but there none the less, as if she could hear it breathing.

Partly because of their own boredom and partly because of Zanna's perpetual crabbiness, Rowan and Resha had started going into Castle Town during the afternoons. They were always bringing back little trinkets or interesting snacks, but it annoyed Zanna more than it cheered her up. What she wouldn't give to be outside the castle gates, just for an hour! It was almost cruel to taunt her with scraps from the real world.

There _was_ an opportunity to leave looming on the horizon, but it happened to be the one trip Zanna wished she didn't have to take. Spring was approaching, and the days were getting progressively warmer. When the water started rising in the nearby streams, it would mean that the mountains had begun to thaw out... and that meant the village had to be tended to immediately. None of them had wanted to leave the bodies unattended for so long, but they knew that the ice would at least preserve them. Now time was running out. When the water finally started to rise, Zanna would be allowed to go back to the village and cremate the dead with Rowan and Resha, under the condition that she be accompanied by several guards and an attendant. Who that would be, she didn't know yet. She hoped to the Gods it wasn't Lyonel.

The more cheerful side of the immediate future was that there was also some sort of annual ball coming up, which Princess Zelda believed should be held despite the threat looming over Hyrule. It would be a sign, she claimed, that the country was still strong, and that it would not buckle under any shadow.

This was all good and well, but Zanna didn't see why she had to be fitted for a ball gown.

"Princess, I'm a prisoner in your castle. No offense, but I don't understand why you'd want to buy me a dress. I'm not sure why you'd let me attend your ball at all," she had said when Princess Zelda herself had introduced Zanna to Lanz the Master Tailor.

The Princess just smiled, as if she had expected Zanna to respond that way. "You have never been to a ball, am I correct?" she asked.

Zanna shrugged. "We don't have balls in the mountains, Princess," she said with a trace of a smile.

Princess Zelda just took Zanna's hand and led her over to the floor length mirror. "You'll love it, I know you will. You have to attend at least one ball while you're still young– it's practically a law," she said, beaming as she fluffed up Zanna's hair and peered thoughtfully at her reflection. They caught each other's gaze in the mirror, and– perhaps relieved to have the tension between them temporarily dissolved– they both laughed.

That's when Zanna finally realized how young Zelda really was. The princess couldn't have been older than Zanna... if anything, she was a year or two her junior. Seeing the princess now, with her pale face flushing and her eyes dancing with the excitement of new clothing and annual balls... Zanna actually felt sorry for her. She wondered how many friends a princess could afford to have. Her bet was that it wasn't many.

Then again, it had recently been proposed that Zanna's mere existence had caused one of the most dangerous plagues in history. Perhaps she wasn't in a position to be feeling sorry for anyone.

Despite her best efforts to resist the pull, Zelda's enthusiasm was infectious and supervising the construction of the new dress soon became the highlight of Zanna's day. It was fascinating, she had to admit... particularly considering she'd never worn anything but the traditional Sheikah garb.

"You say this will go around my waist?" Zanna asked dubiously one afternoon, warily eyeing the odd sort of girdle in Lanz's hand. "I don't think it will fit."

He laughed. "Oh, it'll fit, all right. See these holes?"

Zanna looked where he was pointing– the ribbed band indeed had holes on either end. "So what?" she asked, shrugging.

"That's where the laces go," Lanz said, his face flushing as he watched her for some big reaction, as if waiting to laugh.

"I don't get it," Zanna said, and Lanz threw up his hands in exasperation.

"You make it fit, Zanna," Zelda giggled, picking up a similar garment and demonstrating on one of the limbless dummies. "You pull the laces tight so that your waist looks smaller, and your bust looks bigger."

Zanna made a face. "How do you breathe?" she asked skeptically.

"You don't," Lanz said. "Now sit still while I see if this is long enough."

Apparently there were many decisions to be made when commissioning a ball gown. Colors, fabrics, patterns, stitches, trim, jewels, lace– the list went on and on. Zanna suspected the princess was actually stretching the process out on purpose, but she didn't mind. She had to admit that she actually enjoyed Zelda's company when the young woman wasn't so focused on being the Princess of Hyrule.

One day when they were walking back to the main castle from Lanz's private workshop, Zelda sighed and looked up at the sky, unknowingly sending out a wave of sorrow. It was deep and resonant, but lacked any trace of bitterness. In fact, there was a sweetness to it that Zanna found to be irresistibly heartbreaking.

She glanced at Zelda, whose golden hair was gleaming like a halo in the mid-afternoon light. "What's the matter?" she asked curiously.

Zelda looked startled, guilt and embarrassment momentarily marring her delicate features. "I forgot you're an empath," she blushed. A slightly accusatory frown pulled on the corners of her mouth.

"It takes a pretty strong emotion to break through my shields, Princess," Zanna said, studying the other girl's face pensively. "Anything you want to get off your chest?" she smiled helpfully. "I'm here, and Gods know I don't have anything better to do."

Zelda shook her head with a sad smile. "I know you don't, and I'm sorry about that. I wish I could just release you, but... I can't run the country on my personal feelings. That was my father's undoing."

"It's all right," Zanna sighed. Her emotions were so conflicted that it was difficult to even know which one to cover up with a lie. Ultimately she just decided to say something that was true. "You care about your kingdom above all else, and that's a good thing."

Zelda sighed and watched a bird sail overhead, its lithe little body leaving a tiny racing shadow on the earth below. "What will you do when you're free?" the princess asked wistfully.

Zanna shrugged. "I really don't know," she said as honestly as she could manage. Frankly, she was far from certain that she would escape this mess alive.

Zelda's brow furrowed and she shook her head slowly. "That must be nice. I don't think I'll ever be in that position."

Perhaps she had no right, but Zanna genuinely pitied her. She started to say, "I can't imagine what that's like..." but she realized suddenly that it wasn't exactly true anymore. Zanna was starting to suspect that she had some inherent responsibilities of her own. The difference was that Zelda anticipated a long life, and Zanna wasn't sure if she'd see the end of the year. She was still healing the victims that the border soldiers could round up, but it wasn't getting any easier. It was possible– likely, in fact– that one of these days Zanna would slip and end up receiving a killing blow.

"What would you do if you weren't Princess?" Zanna asked, grinning playfully at the other girl.

Zelda laughed. "Marry a person of my own choosing– for love and not politics," she said, without missing a beat.

Zanna tried not to look surprised, but it was to no avail. "Really?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Yes," Zelda breathed, turning her face upward into the sun. "Even though my father's not alive to arrange a marriage for me, I'm still obligated to find a match that will be advantageous for the kingdom. It would be dishonorable to marry for personal reasons. I understand why it's important, but all the same... a lifetime is a long time to spend with someone you don't even like."

Zanna gave a low whistle, shaking her head. "That sounds... totally backwards," she observed. There was something about the look in Zelda's eyes that made Zanna suspect this was not merely a hypothetical issue. "Would you have someone in mind, if you could choose?" she asked, mischief dancing behind her serious expression.

Zelda blushed deeply. "It doesn't matter," she said.

Zanna opened her mouth to prod Zelda some more, but when she saw the pained expression on Zelda's face she decided not to press the issue. So the princess had a secret crush! Now this, Zanna had to see. She had a hunch that, whoever the lucky guy was, she'd be able to see him at the annual ball. And if Zelda's emotions were as strong as they were now, it would be a breeze picking the man out of the crowd.

Maybe this dance would be fun, after all...

**oXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo**

Zanna couldn't remember the last time she'd seen so much rain... truly, it was as if the heavens themselves were weeping. It was a chilly downpour, but she knew it meant spring was approaching.

Zanna sighed, watching the water come down in sheets and crash upon the courtyard outside her widow, filling up the fountain so that it was nearly overflowing. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and she wondered idly how big the storm was. Was it raining in Ordona, where Link was? Assuming he was still alive... An icy knot formed in the pit of Zanna's stomach and she wished she could stop being so pessimistic. She leaned her forehead against the window with a sigh, watching the little clouds her breath made upon the glass.

_He will be fine. He's the Hero of Hyrule– he is not yours to protect_.

No matter how many times she thought it, her anxiety did not subside. She wasn't sure when she had come to care about Link, but she was worrying as much as she would have if it were Rowan or Resha out there... maybe even more. The difference was that she had never healed Link, and without that connection it was difficult to seek him out with her empathy over such a great distance. She had absolutely no way of knowing whether or not he was okay, and it was making her crazy.

"Zanna?"

She turned quickly, startled by the voice. There was a flash of lightning from outside, followed by a loud crack of thunder, and Princess Zelda had to wait until it had passed to speak again.

"The Goddesses are angry," she smiled, coming to stand beside Zanna at the window. The Sheikah frowned slightly, not liking the casual nature of the joke... but she knew the princess was only trying to be playful.

"I'm not sure I've ever seen so much rain," Zanna said, watching one of the trees in the courtyard whipping back and forth as if it were possessed by evil spirits. "It would be a bad day to be out on the roads."

Zelda nodded, looking thoughtful and surprised. _Oh right_, Zanna remembered with a grin. _She's probably never been on the roads without a huge carriage and half a dozen horses. I doubt she's ever had to think about it._

"We are indeed very fortunate to be indoors," the princess said, momentarily lapsing into her royal persona as she considered the fact that many of her people were out in the storm. After a brief pause, she shook her head and smiled tentatively at Zanna.

"What?" Zanna asked, warily easing away from Zelda's eager expression.

The princess bit her lip and cast another look out into the rain before clasping her hands together as if she were about to make a proposition. "I want you to go out there with me," she said, raising her eyebrows hopefully.

Zanna laughed. "Yeah, right." Her smile died away when she realized that Zelda had not even flinched. Zanna's eyes widened. "You're serious, aren't you?" she asked dubiously.

Zelda smiled sweetly. "It's a chance to get out of the castle, isn't it? I have something I need you to see, and it's better to go now, when no one else will be out."

Zanna shook her head. "The castle guards will never let you out at a time like this– they'll insist you take an entourage for protection."

"Not if they don't know," the princess said mischievously, holding up a pair of cloaks she'd been hiding behind her back. "I've been sneaking out of the castle for years– they'll never miss us, I swear it. We'll be back in an hour."

Zanna sighed heavily, folding her arms over her chest. She wanted to protest, but when she looked into Zelda's hopeful eyes, her willpower folded. "I guess I don't have much of a choice, do I?" she muttered.

Zelda jumped up and down happily, thrusting one of the cloaks into Zanna's hands. "Follow me!"

**oXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo**

"Din's fire..." Zanna breathed, gaping in awe at the giant chamber they had entered. Now she understood why Zelda had wanted to come when there was no one around– it was not a place you would want to be followed into.

They had escaped through the back wall of the castle and dashed into Castle Town, the rain bombarding them continuously. The hem of Zelda's dress was soon covered in mud, so that the princess had to hike it up while they ran through the cobbled streets. Eventually they ducked into the city's enormous temple, their cloaks heavy with water and plastered to their bodies. Zelda held up a finger to indicate silence before leading Zanna to a secret door behind a shrine to Din, the Goddess of Power. Behind it was a spiral staircase that disappeared ominously into the darkness below, but Zelda grabbed a torch and fearlessly led the way.

Magic was heavy on the air, and the closer they got to the bottom the more Zanna started to feel as though she were in a sea of energy, struggling to keep her head above the water. When they finally reached the end of the staircase, it was all she could do to keep her eyes from popping out of her head.

"What is this place?" she asked, staring in amazement at the enormous cavern. The room had been carved into the rock of the earth itself, the walls swooping up into a graceful gothic arch. As soon as their feet had crossed the threshold, hundreds of torches fastened all over the walls had magically sparked to life, bathing the hall in red, orange, and yellow light. At the center of the room was an enormous, intricately painted golden shrine, upon which swirls of jewel-encrusted fire danced realistically in the flickering light. The shrine had strange indentations in it, which Zanna could not make out from her current location. Something about the beautiful centerpiece called to her, however... she found her feet automatically carrying her toward it, as if she were sleepwalking.

"This is what I wanted you to see," Zelda said. Her voice was hushed reverently, and her eyes were solemn. She clasped her hands and slowly moved deeper into the room. "Something about it reminds me of you... and it's taken on a strange energy lately. I thought it might have something to do with the plague."

"Yeah, but what _is_ it?" Zanna asked again, her voice dropping to a whisper as she got closer to the shrine. "I'd almost swear this was Sheikah craftsmanship, but I've never seen such a magnificent cavern." The room had an odd vibration, almost identical to the one Zanna felt when she was in the tunnels below Peak Province. It was magically created– she had no doubt about that. The strange thing was, however, that there were _emotions_ coming off the walls. They were vague and faint, but they were there... jealousy, pride, hatred, fear, ecstacy. It was if the room itself were alive. Zanna was beginning to feel almost intoxicated by the rush of energy.

"Very impressive, Zanna. I see you were telling the truth when you claimed to be a historian."

"I didn't say that– Lyonel did," Zanna replied absent-mindedly. Her heart began to race as she got closer to the shrine.

Zelda laughed. "Good point. All the same, though– you're right. This is indeed a Sheikah cavern. It was created over a thousand years ago to protect the Triforce."

Zanna stopped dead, turning slowly to look back at Zelda. "The Triforce?" she asked, frowning. "But I thought the Triforce was purely symbolic."

The princess smiled, shaking her head slowly. "No, it's real artifact, Zanna... although it hasn't been complete for several hundred years– it was moved to the Sacred Realm for security's sake, and broke into three pieces when Ganondorf I broke the seal and laid his hands upon the Goddesses' legacy."

A dubious smile pulled at the corner of Zanna's mouth, and she made a face. "You're teasing me," she said. "That's just an old legend– a way for the common people to explain the unusual strength of those who are favored by the gods."

Zelda merely looked at Zanna serenely, her hands still benignly clasped in front of her. She released them now and gently tugged off one of her elbow-length gloves, her complexion glowing in the firelight. When the glove was off, she turned the back of her hand toward Zanna with a flourish, revealing a beaming golden triangle that seemed to be molded to the princess' very flesh.

Zanna gave a sharp intake of breath, her eyes widening. Wave after rolling wave of ancient magic crashed over her, radiating from the strange mark on Zelda's hand. It tickled her rib cage and made it difficult to keep her breathing even. "You've got to be kidding me..." Zanna whispered.

Her head whipped back toward the shrine now, and before she could stop herself she was dashing up the raised platform it sat upon. Sure enough, the shrine was imprinted with three empty triangles, abandoned by the metal that had once occupied them but radiating warmth and energy left as a residue. Whatever this shrine had held had been extremely powerful, that much was certain.

"I don't believe this," Zanna muttered, gently running her fingertips over the indentations in the enormous shrine.

"You can touch it," Zelda said in surprise, causing Zanna to cast a curious look over her shoulder.

"So what?"

The princess was flabbergasted, staring up at Zanna as if she'd just sprouted wings. "I've never been able to get that close," she explained as her brow furrowed and she slowly circled around the platform. "Let alone touch it."

Zanna raised an eyebrow. "Very interesting." She gazed upon the shrine again, her heart constricting as she did so. The elegantly curving metal with its lifelike energy called to her like her own flesh and blood, as if it were family. An idea struck her.

"Maybe it's because I'm Sheikah," she said suddenly, looking questioningly at the princess. "Maybe part of the protection was that no non-Sheikah could touch it under ordinary circumstances. At the time you say this shrine was constructed, the Sheikah would have been the most trusted guardians in the country."

Zelda nodded, her lips pursing in concentration. "That's a very good idea. It would make sense." Her eyes widened suddenly and she pointed to the base of the shrine. "Can you read that, there at on the bottom? It looks like Sheikahn, but I've never been able to make it out."

Zanna followed Zelda's gesture and examined the runes at the foot of the shrine. "Ah," she breathed pensively. "No, you wouldn't be able to read this. It's Old Sheikahn. It looks like..." Zanna frowned slightly, biting her bottom lip. "It's a spell. It says that one can call upon the sorcery in the walls of the cavern, and demand that the Triforce return to its resting place."

"A spell to reassemble the Triforce?" Zelda gasped, creeping as close to the platform as she dared. "Can you read it? Could you make the spell work?"

Zanna looked uneasily at the princess' eager expression, shaking her head. "I don't know. Not at the moment, I couldn't. I'd have to spend some time getting to know the energy of this place. It wouldn't be safe to summon something I didn't understand."

A sudden desperation filled Zelda's eyes, and she wrung her hands anxiously, her golden mark glowing faintly against her peachy skin. "Will you try?" she asked entreatingly. "Will you learn how to cast the spell?" Her eyes sparked with hope and she continued excitedly: "If the Triforce were whole again, then I could use it to wish for the plague to be stopped. My intentions are pure– I know that the Triforce wouldn't reject me!"

Zanna took a deep breath, looking guiltily at Zelda's childlike face. The princess was so hopeful that she almost seemed naive, although Zanna doubted very much that was the case. Gods... this was precisely what she'd sworn she wouldn't do! She'd been ready to face execution, but of course things had not gone so simply...

"What is yours?" she asked Zelda quietly, nodding toward her hand.

For a moment the princess was confused, but then she realized what Zanna was asking and smiled playfully. "Wisdom, of course? Couldn't you tell?"

A wry smile pulled on Zanna's lips, and she bowed her head thoughtfully. Wisdom. She supposed it made sense... Power or courage wouldn't have fit, and wisdom explained Zelda's penchant for prophecy.

It was easy to say that Zanna would wage war on the Goddesses– that she would destroy their representatives on earth and turn a deaf ear to their Great Destiny. But could she really turn her back on the innocent people of Hyrule? Her mind flashed to the villagers from Saruko, and then to her own village in the mountains... Could she live with herself if she let this disease kill thousands of people, solely on the grounds of some lofty principle?

"Gods in hell..." she sighed. No, she couldn't– even though part of her hated that she would bend so easily. "All right. I'll give it a try. But I'll need permission to come here every day for at least a few weeks. You can send guards with me to the temple, but no one can follow me into the chamber."

"Done," Zelda said instantly, beaming. "You will have whatever you need. What you are doing is a tremendous service to Hyrule– on behalf of the Goddesses, I thank you."

Zanna's stomach gave a bitter twist. "Don't say it like that," she muttered petulantly.

Zelda just smiled. "Well then, I thank you on my own behalf. This is the biggest favor anyone has ever done for me, and I appreciate it."

Zanna reluctantly returned Zelda's smile with one of her own. "You're welcome, Princess."

**oXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo**

As Zelda promised, they were back in an hour... although it was painfully obvious from their muddy clothing that they'd snuck out. The guards said nothing as they passed through the halls, however, clearly trained to overlook Zelda's unsanctioned outings.

They parted ways at the beginning of the guest wing (at which point Zelda threw her arms around Zanna's neck in a somewhat awkward hug,) and Zanna's entire focus shifted to finding one of the castle's maids. She needed a warm bath and a change of clothes, and had been strictly forbidden to fetch her own bath water. At the time she'd originally been told of this rule, she'd thought it was impressive and pampering... now she just thought it was annoying.

She was peering tentatively into an unoccupied room when someone grabbed her arm, causing Zanna to jump and give a little shriek in surprise.

"I'm sorry," the owner of the hands said quickly as his face turned completely red. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

"Colin?" Zanna exclaimed. Her eyes widened as a smile spread across her lips. "You're back! Where's Link?"

Colin shook his head, his face contorted into an expression of the utmost distress. Zanna suddenly felt his anxiety, and her stomach dropped.

"What is it?" she asked, putting her hands on his shoulders and trying not to panic. "What's happened?"

"He's caught it," Colin whispered desperately. "We ran into the plague on the way back and one of them scratched him. He was okay until we got here, but as soon as he made it into his room he lost it! Please, you have to help him before he hurts himself!"

Zanna couldn't breathe– it was as if a giant hand had reached through her and crushed her heart and her lungs in a single squeeze. "Gods," she gasped. "Where's his room?"


	10. Answers

**A/N:** I don't really have an excuse for why this took so long... I just got hit with writer's block! I have a very clear idea for how I want the story to continue now, and the end is actually in sight. So if anyone is still reading this... there is a good chance that it will actually be completed by January or February. (Cross your fingers! :P) I'm just going to try and plow through the story, not necessarily paying attention to writing quality, and then edit everything at the end if I feel the need... so please be nice if the language gets a little spotty here and there. XD

**Triforce of the Gods**

**Chapter 10: Answers**

Zanna skidded to a stop behind Colin, barely avoiding slamming into him as they came to the door of Link's room. Her heart was thudding painfully in her chest as a near-frantic desire to see him with her own two eyes overcame her. As she reached for the door knob, Colin reached out and caught her hand, his eyes wide.

"What is it?" Zanna asked, almost annoyed. Suddenly there was a tremendous crash from inside, so loud that the door trembled on its hinges. Colin was clenching and unclenching his fists nervously as he stared up at her. "What was that?" Zanna gasped.

"Link's not like the other victims were," Colin answered anxiously. "He's... violent."

"Violent?" Zanna echoed. There was another bang from behind the door, and her stomach twisted. It would make sense, she supposed. Link was a warrior– perhaps even the most talented swordsman in all of Hyrule. While ordinary villagers might seek help to escape their nightmares, Link seemed more likely to attack his head on. That was going to make things difficult...

Standing there debating it wasn't going to save him, however, Zanna thought, shaking her head. "I'll be careful– stay out here," she told Colin firmly. After he nodded, she twisted the doorknob and slipped quickly inside, quietly clicking the door shut behind her.

A large vase came flying at Zanna's head. She barely ducked in time for it to explode into a shower of multi-colored clay where her face used to be. Taking a deep breath, Zanna straightened up and tried to absorb the scene around her.

The bed was overturned, the mattress reduced to a mutilated pulp with its innards covering the room in a blanket of feathers. One of the tables had been smashed to bits, random trinkets were scattered across the floor, and the doors of the bureau were flung open haphazardly. Link was in the eye of the storm, breathing heavily and holding a table leg in one hand like a bludgeon. He seemed to be a vision from one of Zanna's own nightmares– just looking at him in his current state created an ache in her chest that made it difficult to breathe. To see his skin carrying the sickly yellow tint, his usually-brilliant eyes glassed over as if by blindness, his body covered in self-inflicted cuts and bruises... it was the very picture of what Zanna feared the most. Her jaw slackened in a silent expression of horror.

Link's eyes were roving the room, but when they got to Zanna they stopped. They trailed slowly from her feet up to her eyes, until their gazes were locked.

The eye contact caught her off-guard. Without warning, Zanna's barriers suddenly dropped and pain exploded behind her eyes in a dazzle of white-hot stars.

The empathetic connection between them was strong enough that Zanna felt every sensation as if it were her own, rather than merely feedback. She swayed and dropped to her knees, clenching her teeth against what felt like thousands of prickling needles rolling over her skin as wave after wave of terror and hatred washed over her. It was all Zanna could do to remember that she was separate from the pain.

She looked up just in time to see Link charging toward her with the table leg– she dived out of the way and made a dash for the destroyed bed. Once she was safely crouched behind it, she squeezed her eyes shut and desperately tried to focus on a healing spell. Her shields were already down, so if she could just conjure up enough energy...

It was a stunningly difficult task– her mind kept being pulled toward the pain and the fear, refusing to be still long enough to gather up strength for the spell. When the swirling teal light finally appeared between Zanna's palms, it was a weak and flickering thing. She put all of her willpower into the light and sent it toward Link with a mental heave, praying that it was enough.

A surprisingly large amount of energy left her body, rushing toward Link and striking him squarely in the chest. Zanna collapsed against the bedframe and watched.

He stopped dead in his tracks, clearly having felt the blast. There was a moment of utter stillness. Then, slowly, a strange expression lit Link's face– Zanna held her breath as he gradually swept his eyes toward her...

And swung the bludgeon at her head.

She tried to fall back behind the bed, but it was too late– the blow caught her squarely on the side of the face. Zanna went reeling into the wall, dazed by the intensity of the blow. Her vision became spotty and she could hear her blood roaring in her ears... for a moment she forgot where she was. There was no pain– which she took as a very, very bad sign.

When she regained her senses, she barely rolled out of the way in time to avoid another blow from the bat. Zanna staggered to the other side of the room, bracing her back against the wall as she tried to catch her breath. Panic was blooming through her rib cage, sending an icy rush of fear through her veins. Link's emotions were still rolling over her, but her anxiety over the fact that her spell had just failed was quickly taking precedence.

_My Gods... _she thought in horror. _What if I can't save him?_

It was perhaps the second most abysmal moment in Zanna's life. She remembered what it felt like to have Caell's body flung over her shoulder, wanting to run but only capable of taking the tiniest steps... feeling the warmth of his blood seeping through the back of her coat as his heart beat grew fainter and fainter. If she had only been able to move more quickly!

Not again, Zanna decided fiercely. She was not going to fail a second time and live to be haunted by the memory. Either they both made it out of the wrecked bedroom, or neither of them did.

Link was charging toward her again, but Zanna planted her feet and closed her eyes, gathering her energy with a trance-like focus. She was vaguely aware of something striking her shoulder and sending her to her knees again, but it was a tiny thought in the background of her mind. The swirling light collected between her palms, growing larger and larger until there was enough of it to heal an entire village at once... and then Zanna released it all, opening her eyes just in time to see the blinding flash of light hit Link squarely in the chest.

This time, it worked.

Inch by inch, a warm glow spread across his skin, transforming all that it touched. The yellow tint faded, the bruises disappeared beneath his flesh, and the cuts knit themselves back together as if in fast-forwarded motion. Zanna held her breath as the milky cover of Link's eyes cleared away, revealing their natural sapphire color. He blinked, staring around the room in disorientation.

"Link...?" Zanna asked tentatively, clambering to her feet.

He studied her with a vague amazement. "Zanna?" he asked. "You're bleeding."

Zanna's breath rushed out of her in a half-sigh, half-sob, and she shook her head violently in an attempt to keep herself from crying. "It doesn't matter," she said quietly.

Link's brow furrowed, and gradually his face took on an expression of alarm. "I caught it, didn't I?" he said slowly.

Zanna nodded and, unable to restrain herself any longer, threw her arms around his neck in a fervent hug. "It didn't work the first time," she wept. "I wasn't sure I was going to be able to fix you. You promised you'd be safe!" she choked.

Link froze helplessly, startled by her tears. "I'm sorry– I tried to be careful. I stayed as far away as I could," he stammered.

"Don't be sorry," Zanna said. She was flustered as she pulled back and wiped the tears from here eyes, waving one hand dismissively. "I shouldn't make you feel that way– you have nothing to apologize for. I just... I'm so glad you're okay," she sighed with a watery smile.

"Me too," Link said faintly.

They shared a long gaze, and then Link wrapped his arms around her shoulders, drawing her closer.

"Was your village all right?" she sniffed.

Link laughed and swept her long hair out of her face. "Yes, my village was fine. We rode past some plague victims on the way back, though. We stayed so far away from them, I thought there was no way we would catch it." There was a grave pause as both of them considered the implications of that information. A hallucinogenic plague was bad. A highly contagious hallucinogenic plague was exponentially worse.

Link put his index finger under her chin and gently pulled her gaze back up to meet his. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely, searching her face for a reaction.

Zanna nodded slowly, and gave him another shaky smile. "I know. I forgive you."

oXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo

The following morning Zanna awoke late in the day to the sound of furious banging on her door. It felt like she'd only closed her eyes for a moment, but when Zanna glanced out her window she could see that the sun was already high in the sky. It must have been at least midday.

"Hold your horses!" she grumbled, crawling out of bed wearing an oversized men's shirt she'd swiped from one of the other guest rooms. The soft carpet felt luxurious underneath her bare feet as she padded toward the door, blearily rubbing her eyes. She ran her fingers through her hair a few times, untangling it and shaking it out in the hopes that it wouldn't look like a bird's nest.

Zanna yawned as she pulled open the door, revealing Link's startled face. He stared at her right cheek, eyes widening with a strange, agonized expression. "Gods..." he breathed. "It's true!"

"What's true?" Zanna asked in bewilderment, stepping aside so he could come in, and then closing the door behind him. When she turned around, Link was barely a step behind her, and he gently took her face in his hands and turned her head so that he could look at her cheek bone.

"I'm so sorry, Zanna," he said miserably. "I didn't know–"

"Didn't know what?" she asked, batting his hands away. "What are you talking about?"

"Look in the mirror," he said.

Zanna gave him a look that was half skepticism, half irritation... but she obliged him by walking over to her vanity and glancing at herself in the mirror.

She did a double-take.

"Gods in hell," she muttered, leaning in closer to stare at the truly grotesque bruise that had blossomed along the side of her face. "I forgot about that... Not a very charming look for me, is it?" she asked over her shoulder, grinning crookedly at him. "I hope it's not broken..."

"How can you joke about this?" Link asked, aghast. "I could have killed you!"

Zanna just shook her head. "I seriously doubt that."

"I bet you do," he said tersely. Link glared at her in exasperation, pacing once or twice down the length of her sitting area. "This is all my fault. I shouldn't have left you unprotected in the first place. But you should have asked for help– what were you thinking?"

"I wasn't thinking– and it's _not_ your fault," Zanna said a little pleadingly. "Colin told me you were ill, and I went to your room to fix it. It was a very straightforward process."

Link ran his hand over his eyes. "Gods in hell, Zanna!" he said in frustration. "Don't you know what it would have done to me if I'd have killed you? Do you have any idea how I would have felt?"

"Yeah, I do," she answered angrily, her composure dropping. "You would feel crazy. Because you would still be out of your mind with the plague! Or worse– you'd be dead and feel nothing at all!"

"I'm not saying that I wouldn't have wanted you to help me," Link said, "but you could have taken Rowan and Resha with you, at least. They depend on you– doesn't that count for anything?"

"Of course it does!" Zanna snapped, pain evident in her voice. "But I was not going to lose another person because I didn't act quickly enough," she said fiercely. "I will never let that happen again!"

Zanna took a quivering breath. "When you struck me–" Link started to interrupt with another anguished apology, but Zanna held up a hand to stop him. "When you struck me, I knew I could be in danger. But I didn't feel afraid for myself. I was only afraid because I hadn't been able to heal you, and because you might be gone for good. I care about you," she said softly, unable to meet his gaze. "I could never have forgiven myself if I lost you."

For a moment, Link looked shell shocked. "Zanna..." he sighed in exasperation. He slowly crossed over to her and placed his hands on her arms, sliding them up her body until he was cradling her face in his hands, gently lifting her chin so that she was looking up at him. Zanna's heart began working overtime, and she hoped she wasn't blushing. Link's eyes settled on her bruise, and his expression became so distraught that Zanna actually felt guilty.

"I would never want you to put yourself in danger for me," he said, and despite his slightly pleading tone there was a confidence in his voice that said he expected her to respect his wishes. "If I were to seriously injure you by accident, or worse..." He shuddered, unable to finish. Link ran his thumb carefully down the line of her cheek, studying the bruise intently.

He bent his head toward her and– so gently that it was barely perceptible– laid a kiss on the darkened flesh. Zanna held her breath as his lips moved downward, tracing over the length of the bruise until he reached her jaw line. She could feel his regret in every movement, as if he wished he could kiss away the injury. When he finished, he moved upward until their foreheads were touching, their mouths so close that she could feel his breath on her mouth.

Zanna leaned in and slowly closed the distance between them, pressing her lips lightly against his. They were much softer than she expected. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and there was a rightness in the way they fit together... like snapping in a piece of a puzzle. She let her hands slide up around his neck as the kiss deepened and she felt it not just on her lips but all the way down to the tips of her toes.

Even with her shields up, she could feel his emotions swell– a tide of warmth and affection that made her feel light-headed. Zanna sighed as one of his hands traced a line up her neck and then buried itself in her hair, easily sliding through the dark locks.

When the kiss ended, Zanna could not resist a tiny, breathless laugh.

"Not the response I had in mind," Link said with a wry smile, but as he said it he nuzzled her ear and the sound sent a shiver down her spine.

"Since when do I behave the way you expect me to?" Zanna asked dryly. Link smiled.

"No more reckless solo stunts," he said, kissing her temple. "If you decide to do something stupid from here on out, I'm going in ahead of you."

"Recklessness is kind of my thing," she observed. "What you're proposing will be a full-time job."

"That's the idea," he said, and kissed her again.

oXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo

Zelda had been right: Zanna did like the library. It had taken her awhile to get around to checking it out– with so many bizarre things going on, she hadn't really been in the mood to research. She was sorry she'd overlooked it for so long, however. It was the most beautiful thing she'd seen since leaving the mountains.

The library took up at least 3/4 of the third floor. Enormous wooden bookshelves lined the entire room, and it would have taken two grown men stacked on top of each other just to read the top shelf. History, mathematics, physics, biology... the resources seemed positively endless. Zanna even found an entire corner dedicated to court etiquette! Sunlight shone through the enormous arched windows on either side of the hall, allowing long beams of light to pour into the aisles. All around, the air smelled of leather, ink, parchment, and the faintly musty smell that can only be described as the "book smell." It was heavenly– Zanna considered dragging her blankets upstairs and living out of the library.

Even in such a large collection, however, finding information about the Sheikah or sorcery was not an easy task. As for the Sheikah, they could only be found in the shadows of some unrelated text– a footnote or the passing mention of a name. That was the nature of the Shadow Folk: they cloaked themselves in every avenue of their lives... it was part of their very essence. Sorcery, however, was another matter entirely. There were a few books dealing directly with sorcery, but they were scattered about, and many were badly censored or damaged– often by fire. There had been several anti-magic movements in the history of Hyrule, calling for the destruction of anything– and anyone– having to do with sorcery. Magic was perfectly legal in present times, but it had been so effectively wiped out that there was hardly anything of it left. And finding records of it was difficult because the only way to preserve a book of sorcery during the magic ban had been to break it up, scatter it, and hide it amongst other things where it wouldn't be noticed. Digging up those records now was like finding a needle in a haystack.

"Hey, Zanna– what about alchemy?" Rowan called from somewhere far across the room, tucked away between the shelves.

"Leave it," she answered. "It's all theoretical nonsense. But check it to make sure it's not hiding something to do with actual sorcery."

"Will do," Rowan shouted back.

Centuries ago, before the first anti-magic crusade, the castle had royal conjurors who taught, researched, and performed magic. It was common for them to keep records or memoirs of their experiments and creations. Zanna was hoping that at least one of these records out of the dozens written still survived. The idea was that if they could find one of these books, it might explain the power contained in the cavern Zelda had shown Zanna. Zanna had not told Rowan, Resha, or Link why they were searching for sorcery texts. She planned on avoiding explaining the situation until the last possible moment... She needed time to decide how she felt about the shrine and what it meant.

Zanna spotted a thick black book above her, its spine worn down to the point that it was illegible. However, there was a bit of the golden title remaining– just enough that she could make out a rune the Old Gerudo had used when writing out spells. Very strange.

The wheeled ladder was far on the other side of the room, where Rowan was, but the book was just a couple of feet above Zanna's head. If she stood on her tip toes and stretched her arm as far as it could go, she might be able to pull it out...

She lengthened her body as best she could, eyes locked on the tome. "Come on," she muttered, biting her lip in concentration. She could almost get it...

Suddenly arms grabbed her around the middle from behind, making Zanna jump. She gave a startled cry.

Laughter erupted in her ear, and she could feel the vibrations of the sound on her back. Link planted a line of fluttering kisses along her cheek, pulling her back against him.

"That is not funny!" Zanna fumed, but when Link's lips trailed down to her neck and he still kept her locked between his arms... she couldn't help herself. She laughed, trying to squirm away from the ticklish embrace. "Sneaking up on people is a good way to get killed," she said, managing to wiggle herself around until she was facing him.

"Maybe for the person being snuck up on," Link said.

Zanna opened her mouth to give a heated retort, but he cut her off by leaning in as if he were about to kiss her, and stopping when their lips were millimeters apart. Just when Zanna had forgotten her argument and closed her eyes, Link stepped away and went to pull the book off the shelf for her.

"Let me get that for you," he said with a cocky smile. Zanna crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at him.

"I will get you back for teasing me... you know that, right?" she asked, raising an eyebrow and accepting the book grudgingly. "I'm very good at revenge, and I can wait a very long time." The threat was half-hearted, as most of her attention was focused on carefully skimming through the tome.

"Unfortunately for you, I'm the hero best known for foiling plots of revenge."

"You're about to become the hero best known for... Gods in heaven," Zanna breathed as she trailed off in mid-thought.

"What is it?" Link asked. His playful smile faded, and he moved to hover over her shoulder to look at the book in her hands.

Zanna shook her head, thumbing through the pages excitedly. "You may not be able to appreciate this at the moment, but... It's an honest-to-Gods _instruction manual_."

oXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo

"So why is this book written in Old Gerudo and not Old Sheikah?" Zelda asked as they finally finished reading through the main parts of the book, a mammoth project which had holed them up in the princess's quarters for the entire afternoon. Link had not left Zanna since she found the book, and had handled the news of the shrine surprisingly well. In fact, he was eager to support any effort to reassemble the Triforce and return Hyrule to a period of peace.

"That's the genius of it," Zanna answered, respectfully closing the front cover of the volume and running her fingertips over the golden lettering. "The goal of this shrine was not to protect the Triforce from everyone except the royal family. It was to protect the Triforce from _everyone– _royal family included. In early history, Hyrulians were much more fearful of the Triforce than they were reverent. They recognized it as a potential tool of evil, and wanted to seal it away as permanently as possible.

"The sorceress they chose to design the shrine was a great Sheikah empath– probably even more powerful than me, and certainly better versed in magic. She created the shrine so that only an empath could truly harness its power... and empaths are only born into Sheikah lines."

"Really?" Zelda asked, a unique expression of genuine surprise alighting her usually composed features. "Are you certain?"

"Yes," Zanna said confidently. "Other cultures have given birth to incredible sorcerers, but only the Sheikah produce empaths. So the sorceress only had to protect the shrine from other Sheikah. That's why she wrote this manual in Gerudo– at the time, the Gerudo were the sworn enemies of the Sheikah and of Hyrule as a whole. No self-respecting Sheikah would know how to read it."

"And yet you are a Sheikah empath of incredible power, who can read a number of archaic languages, including Old Gerudo..." Zelda observed suspiciously, leaning back in her high-backed chair and examining Zanna through half-lowered lids.

"Of course I can," Zanna said indignantly. "I'm a historian. It's very lucky that you captured me when you did."

"She doesn't believe in luck," Link said at the exact same time Zelda said, "There's no such thing as luck." They looked at one another and smiled.

"It must truly be time to recall the Triforce, if all of these unusual circumstances have aligned so perfectly," Zelda said. Backlit by the room's tall windows, she looked unusually beautiful in the warm afternoon glow, her cheeks blossoming beneath pale blue eyes that mirrored the sky. Zanna wondered if Link had noticed, and felt a twinge of jealousy– but she immediately banished the thought when she realized how inappropriate it was at the moment. Saving the world came first, then she could worry about how pretty Zelda was.

"When can you perform the spell, now that you have the manual?" Zelda asked, sitting up and folding her hands on the table.

"Now that I understand how it works– which is, by the way, amazing and horrific at the same time," Zanna said, interrupting her own sentence. "The cavern traps the soul of every person who tries to steal the Triforce, sealing them inside the walls for all eternity. Their greed for the Triforce leads them to protect it at all costs– which is why you can feel such strange energy inside the cavern. It's the restless spirits of the dead. Every attempt to desecrate the shrine simply made it stronger."

"That's very... Sheikah," Zelda observed, wrinkling her nose.

"It's ingenious," Zanna retorted, shaking her head. "I wish I knew who designed it– she must have been one of the greatest magic-wielders in all of history." She sighed, running her hand over the book again, almost regretfully.

"When can you perform the spell?" Link prodded gently, and Zanna jumped as if startled, snapped away from her own thoughts. She withdrew her hand from the book and shrugged.

"Well... I need at least 24 hours to prepare, but... now that I understand the spell, I can cast it whenever you're ready," she said.

"I fear we have no time to waste," Zelda said heavily. "With the plague advancing every day... it would be irresponsible not to do this as soon as possible, if there is any chance it could help save my people." She studied Zanna gravely. "I'm sorry to ask it of you, but... Can you begin preparing tonight?"

Zanna was ready for the question, and she took a deep breath to steel herself for the answer. "On one condition," she said.

Zelda's eyebrows rose, but she nodded swiftly. "Name it, and if it is in my power to grant it, it shall be yours."

"You have to promise that if everything goes according to plan and the plague is cured, you will let me destroy the Triforce."

"The Triforce is indestructible," Zelda said, unable to hide her shock.

"That's what I thought," Zanna answered, shaking her head, "but after reading this manual I'm not so sure. The way it's protected makes me think that a powerful enough spell could destroy the Triforce for good. There's obviously no way to permanently protect it– destroying it is the only real way to ensure balance in the world." She straightened, her face a carefully blank mask. "I feel strongly about this. It's the only way I'll help you."

Zelda's eyes narrowed, and she leaned back in her chair again, shrewdly eyeing the Sheikah. The princess's mouth was downturned very slightly at one corner, betraying her displeasure, but she did not frown outright.

"I agree with Zanna," Link said.

"Do you really?" Zelda asked, her brow furrowing.

"Yes," he answered without hesitation. "We weren't the first to have to fight Ganon to save Hyrule, and as long as the Triforce of power exists, we won't be the last. Destroying the Triforce is the only way to defeat Ganon once and for all."

Zelda crossed her arms over her chest, looking forlorn. "And yet without the Triforce, we will have no way to secure the favor of the Goddesses. What would happen if evil threatened our land? How could we make sure that good triumphed? At least with the Triforce, we know that wisdom and courage will always outweigh power alone. The Triforce is our greatest defense."

"Evil like that won't exist without the Triforce," Zanna insisted. "Men will always do evil things, but pure evil exists because of the corruption of the Triforce of power– I'm sure of it." _Well, the Triforce of power and me, apparently_... Zanna thought, thinking sadly of the plague. She shook her head and attempted to clear the thought. _I am not the Winged Sheikah. I am not responsible for the deaths of thousands– I could never cause such a thing,_ she told herself. A shadow of guilt remained, however, even as the idea lifted.

"You are the only person capable of controlling the shrine, correct?" Zelda asked, her tone steely.

"Well... yes," Zanna said slowly.

"Then I fail to understand why we are even having this conversation," Zelda said tersely. "Reassemble the Triforce, Zanna– save my people. I can't control what you do after that. I would prefer you find a way to strengthen the defenses of the Triforce– to protect it from evil– and leave our country's oldest heirloom intact. But if you truly want to destroy it, I don't see how I could stop you without killing you, which I am not willing to do."

It wasn't exactly a blessing, but it was enough. "Good," Zanna smiled, feeling genuinely hopeful for the first time in years. "Then I'll get started immediately."


End file.
